<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The Storybook by mwhite4264</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26994121">The Storybook</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mwhite4264/pseuds/mwhite4264'>mwhite4264</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Minor Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:48:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>78</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>166,528</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26994121</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mwhite4264/pseuds/mwhite4264</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Astoria Greengrass makes a mistake, and is caught violating an ordinance from the Dark Lord. After her trial, she is convicted to death, by order of Bellatrix Lestrange. When the executioner is named to be Draco Malfoy, the boy Astoria has been looking for for years, she must make a bid for her life, taking a risk. The task she was given by a man long dead, may just be the key to saving her life. </p><p>"This is a book of stories. While seemingly insignificant and trivial, these stories hold great importance, for they are a code. Some are lessons, some are observations, some are vitally important revelations; they all hold power. The stories are all part of a larger one, a story that can save lives, a story that is a call to action. You will not know what they mean. Only Draco can decipher the code, and only Draco can do what is necessary. Commit these stories to memory. Leave nothing out. When you have done so, burn this journal. Find him, and tell him each story, each piece to the final whole. For these stories hold a great secret, one that only he can know."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Daphne Greengrass/Neville Longbottom, Ernie Macmillan/Pansy Parkinson, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Luna Lovegood and Draco Malfoy (platonic), Luna Lovegood/George Weasley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>82</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Part One: Expiation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Part One: Expiation</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Astoria</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>Bellatrix Lestrange sat before her, on a throne of blackened bone. Astoria wondered for a moment whether the chief consort to the Dark Lord was even allowed to sit on his throne. She wondered briefly if he would be displeased if he knew. She worried her lip between her teeth. Her occlumency was good. But would it be enough? Bellatrix was not like the Dark Lord. She could not do legilimency in a constant steam. Lestrange would have to cast the spell, using her wand. That spell would be powerful.</p><p>               Astoria was dressed simply, a pale pink day gown and sensible white flats. Her hair was braided back from her face. To an untrained eye, she would have been dressed formally, but for a lady of her previous status, she looked common. Normally she would have done her makeup. Nothing ostentatious; darkened lashes, tinted lips, a little color in the cheeks. With nothing on, Astoria thought she looked pale and sickly. She also thought she looked younger than her twenty years. That was what she was going for. Young, innocent, simple. Entirely ordinary. </p><p>               She had hoped Yaxley would be her judge tonight. Or perhaps Dolohov. He was the head of magical law enforcement. She had not expected Bellatrix. She had not thought her case was high profile enough. Her outfit might have fooled Yaxley or Dolohov. Bellatrix would not be so easily swayed by a silly dress and clean face.</p><p>               Her mistake had been foolish and stupid. Daphne had always warned her about things like this. Daphne had always told her she took to many risks. Astoria had thought no one would ever know. She had been in possession of contraband items. Two muggle books. <em>Arabian Nights</em> and <em>Jane Eyre.</em> That was all. It was enough. They had been hidden in her room. She thought no one would dare raid Greengrass Manor. She thought wrong.</p><p>               Bellatrix looked especially cruel tonight. Her black hair was wild and fell about her head in tight corkscrew curls. Astoria thought they looked like a thousand tiny snakes, all coiled together. He eyes were like coal, glittering with malice. She was wearing an expensive and rather revealing black gown, long sleeved, but slits of see through lace decorated the forearms, showing off the mark, as was the fashion.</p><p>               “Name?” Bellatrix called, her high voice, although soft, seemed to penetrate Astoria’s very bones.</p><p>                “Astoria Greengrass.” Astoria answered, her voice shaking slightly.</p><p>                “I can’t hear you!” snapped Bellatrix, angrily. Astoria flinched. She hated yelling. Of any kind.</p><p>                She swallowed, and spoke, louder this time, “Astoria Greengrass.” Bellatrix smiled, if you could call it that. Astoria thought her face stretched unnaturally, as though it was never meant to smile. And her eyes weren’t right either. The emotion didn’t match the mouth.</p><p>               “Good name. Did you finish your education?” Bellatrix asked.</p><p>               “Yes. I graduated from Hogwarts. As a Slytherin.” Astoria tacked on at the end. It never hurt to flaunt that.</p><p>               “I see. And did you complete the proper muggle studies requirement?” Astoria felt her throat go dry. She felt as if she might faint.</p><p>               “Yes. I found the Carrows to be most engaging in their lessons.” Astoria answered. Her responses were perfect. She knew it.</p><p>               Bellatrix smiled. Astoria could tell that Bellatrix thought she had her trapped, but she was prepared. “You must have missed class, when they were lecturing on the danger, and poison that is muggle literature. Or perhaps you simply weren’t paying attention.” Astoria had prepared for that line of thinking. </p><p>              “Madame Lestrange, while I feel foolish admitting this, I enjoyed reading muggle literature, because I found it funny.” Bellatrix eyes widen in mock surprise, and Astoria’s stomach drops. She had expected real surprise.</p><p>               “Funny?” Bellatrix questions, her intonation rising to a comical pitch at then end, exaggerating the question.</p><p>               “Yes. The muggle literature was so bad. So bad, it was comical. I enjoyed making fun of it. It was like a private joke. I assure you it did not poison my mind. If anything, it reassured me that muggles are filth, capable of nothing. Why, they can’t even write.”  </p><p>               It is then, Astoria feels Bellatrix enter her mind. The pain is sharp, but she does not let her in. However, it was her fatal mistake. A truly good occlumens can deny someone entrance, without ever letting the legilimens know they have been denied such entrance. Astoria was good. But not good enough.</p><p>               Bellatrix’s face contorts in anger and Astoria knows she has lost. “While I appreciate the sentiment that muggle literature is <em>funny</em>,” she draws out the word funny, saying it with contempt. “I do not find it funny to deny a direct ordinance from the Dark Lord. He has commanded no muggle literature shall be read. And you, read it.”</p><p>              Astoria opens her mouth “Please, I meant no offense. It was not my intention to—”</p><p>             “SILENCE!” Bellatrix screeches. Tears began to fill Astoria’s eyes.</p><p>               “It does not matter what your intent is. You defied the Dark Lord.” Astoria’s stomach turned at the reverent and honeyed way Bellatrix says, “Dark Lord”. "Now, ordinarily I would say some time at the Pureblood Reeducation Center would be beneficial." Astoria’s heart leapt. If Purebloods committed minor offenses, like Astoria’s, they were sent to the center. They were given luxurious rooms and attended classes very akin to Muggle Studies at Hogwarts. Then a few months later they were released. It was the best-case scenario.</p><p>               “However, I cannot see how you would be any use to society.” Astoria’s face scrunched in confusion. Was her blood not pure? Was that not her greatest weapon in this world? Was that not where her value was placed? Bellatrix’s smile was now, not fake, but gleeful. That could not be good for Astoria.</p><p>               “What good is your pure blood if you cannot give us pure children? It seems to me that your condition,” Bellatrix pauses ready to deliver another blow, “renders you useless. What good are you then? You are no seasoned duelist. No great beauty like your sister. Why, you carry no mark! I think you to be a waste of space. A girl with a malediction hardly has a place amongst the Dark Lord and his New World Order.”</p><p>               Astoria cannot breathe. This cannot be happening. She knows what is coming next but can hardly believe it. The courtroom is filled with people. She can hear them shift uncomfortably. The Pureblood elite had not expected this outcome either.</p><p>               “Our Lord’s greatest commandment, is ‘Thou shall not suffer a blood traitor to live!’ By reading those books, you betrayed your blood.” Someone cries out, and Astoria thinks it may be her sister.</p><p>               “With this is mind, I see only one solution. Astoria Greengrass, I Bellatrix Lestrange, sentence you to death.”</p><p>               Astoria sees Daphne attempt to run down, but her new husband, Theodore Nott, pulls her back down. Astoria is grateful. There is no sense in Daphne getting in trouble to. She sees Daphne turn toward Nott, no doubt pleading with him to do something. He is likely promising her that he will talk to Bellatrix after and see if something can’t be arranged. Nott is a powerful Death Eater after all. She knows it’s futile, and Nott probably does too. But if it can give her sister peace, she hopes he will do it.</p><p>               Guards grab her arms and steer her away. Down hallways and more hallways, until the guards turn and apparate, taking her with them. She is squeezed uncomfortably but arrives without splinching. She is not at Azkaban, of which she is relieved. It seems her name still affords her some respect. Astoria knows in her heart of hearts she is not a purist. She never was. But, in times like this, she guiltily feels grateful that some people are. Sadly, she is not so morally superior as to face the dementors in solidarity with others who have been similarly mistreated.</p><p>               She does not know where she is. A prison, likely an old pureblood property, a summer home of someone. It is not nearly grand enough to be a manor. It has been converted into a prison on the inside however, because as she is taken down long hallways and even longer staircases, she is put in a room at the very top. It has a narrow bed, and a narrow window. There is one candle on a nightstand and a small chair in the corner. That is all.</p><p>               “When will I die?” She asks the guards.</p><p>               “Er, Bellatrix will send someone out soon. Probably tonight. After that it will be up to whoever she sends. She is not one to follow up for minor cases like yours. But, they usually don’t wait around. If it’s a bloke, you don’t want them to wait around.” Astoria’s stomach twists at the implication, but she is grateful to the guards. They likely don’t appreciate what Bellatrix said to her. Or her sentencing. Slytherins and the Pureblood community look after their own. These guards may be complacent in many horrible acts, but they wouldn’t like to see anything happen to her. At least, she hopes this is the case. Perhaps they see her as a blood traitor now, not deserving of the respect they would have given her just days ago. </p><p>               She nods at the guards as they leave. She notices a plain black silk top with gray linen pants. A swankier prison uniform in her opinion, but this was probably a pureblood or half-blood prison, meaning conditions would undoubtedly be better. She puts it on, happy to get out of the silly pink dress. A lot of good it did her, anyway. She unbraids her hair, and tries not to think of Daphne’s careful fingers as she had done it that morning. She hoped Daphne wouldn’t be too upset.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Draco</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>Draco sits in the courtroom. He has a rather sick feeling in his stomach that he is trying to ignore. He shouldn't even be here, but it appears that while he has managed to slip under the radar for the past four years, his little 'vacation' was over. </p><p>It had started at a “gap year” after Hogwarts graduation. He started travelling abroad, and just, never came home. Apart from the occasional letters to and from his mother, he had ceased contact with relatives and friends alike. However, after a letter from his father and his aunt, he had been summoned home. He thought about refusing, but the implication was clear: come home, or we will find you ourselves. You didn't want Bellatrix Lestrange to find you herself. It never ended well. </p><p>Upon his arrival, he had barely hugged his mother when Bellatrix came swooping in and asking him to come to the trials. And now, he finds himself sitting in a courtroom, all his excuses pushed aside. What he had seen was sickening. He just watched a girl, Daphne’s sister, receive an insanely harsh punishment, for a relatively minor offense. While he hadn’t spoken to Daphne since he left, they had been relatively good friends back at Hogwarts, and he felt sorry for her. He remembered how he felt after his mother had been sent to the Reeducation Center, and that paled in comparison to what she must be feeling.</p><p>               After the events in the Forbidden Forest, at the Battle of Hogwarts, Draco had been sure his mother would be killed. After all, she had been wrong about Potter being dead. While Draco was sure it had been an honest mistake, he hadn’t been sure that the Dark Lord would see it that way.</p><p>               But, Potter had been on the run for years. After the great victory at the Battle of Hogwarts, only Weasley, Granger, Potter, and a few others had escaped. The Dark Lord insisted they were dead, and no one was going to challenge him on it.</p><p>               Bellatrix convinced the Dark Lord that her sister needed only a couple months in the Reeducation Center and all would be well. After all, Potter had been sent running for the hills. No real harm was done.</p><p>               Draco is brought back to the present by his aunt beckoning him down to her seat. He stood, schooling his emotions carefully behind the mask of his occlumency. He strode down to her throne and bowed before it. “Draco” she purred, holding out her hand for him to kiss. He did so, shoving his revulsion down.</p><p>               “How was your trip?” she asked, false sweetness tickling the back of her throat.</p><p>               “Excellent. I was studying and learning about some interesting oddities in several places.” A vague answer, a good answer.</p><p>               “Well, I was thinking. I called you back here, because it really is time you took a more hands on approach. You have yet to prove your devotion to the Dark Lord.” Draco swallowed hard.</p><p>               “Aunt Bella, with all due respect, do I not possess the mark? Did I not prove myself at sixteen when I was given my mission—”</p><p>               “A mission which you ultimately failed. You have yet to make a kill in his honor Draco.”</p><p>               Draco is silent. This is true. What reminded Bellatrix of this? He may never know. Why she suddenly remembered his less than enthusiastic approach to the killing curse, and why she went through the effort of finding him, he doesn’t know. Perhaps his father asked it of her. Perhaps she grows bored now that the war is won.</p><p>               “The girl I just sentenced. The Greengrass girl. I’m giving her to you. Make the kill, and you can go back to your vacation. She won’t put up a fight.”</p><p>               Draco felt sick. Bellatrix knows what she is offering is a good deal. One kill and back to running away. You don’t have to stick around and be reminded of it. Just leave and go back to your life. Even if it wasn’t a good deal. It isn’t like he can say no.</p><p>               “Okay.” He chokes out. He hears Daphne call his name. Perhaps she has realized what he has been tasked with. He ignores her. He can’t face her. He isn’t even sure if he will be able to face himself. “Where is she?”  </p><p>        “One of my summer homes. We converted it into a prison. I’ll arrange a portkey…” whatever else she says he does not hear.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Astoria</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>Astoria sits on the edge of her bed. She is terribly frightened. She had thought she had made peace with the idea of death, but she realizes she hadn’t. Not really. </p><p>               Astoria always knew she was going to die. She knew it would be sooner than everyone else. She had expected her malediction, her blood curse, to take her. She had spent her life preparing for it, accepting it.</p><p>               Astoria does not fear death. She fears the unknown.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Draco</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Draco opens the door to her cell. He is surprised when he sees her. She had looked young at the trial and he had been taken aback when she said she had finished Hogwarts. Now, she looks older, about twenty, the dress and braids gone, replaced with a more mature outfit. This makes it easier. He wasn’t keen on killing a young girl, who had barely finished Hogwarts. He wasn’t keen on killing anyone. And yet, perhaps that had been the affect she had been going for. She probably expected Dolohov. Too bad. It would have worked on him.</p><p>               She looks equally surprised to see him. She is standing, and he suspects she might have been pacing. She opens her mouth, and he feels sick. He doesn’t want her to talk. “Draco? Draco Malfoy? They said you disappeared.”  He debates on whether he should answer, but guilt compels him to.</p><p>               “Yeah. I was abroad for a while. My aunt called me back here.”  </p><p>               “Why?” she asks softly.</p><p>               This question annoys him. He doesn’t yell. You don’t yell at a lady about to die. “You know why.” He says softly. She raises her eyebrows.</p><p>               “That is a lot of trouble to go to for me. I just had two muggle books. I really didn’t do anything that bad. I swear.”</p><p>               Draco laughs without humor. “You don’t have to convince me. I’m neither judge nor jury.” Astoria smirks.</p><p>               “But you are the executioner.” she reminds him.</p><p>               Draco feels his heart drop. He can’t do this. He knows he can’t. But he must. If he kills her, he can leave. And never come back.</p><p>               “What are you going to do to me?” she asks. He is brought back out of his thoughts. He looks at her. He can tell that she is terrified. He feels his stomach clench. He knows what she is referring too. She is worried what else he could do besides kill her. And perhaps how he will kill her.</p><p>               “Don’t worry. I’ll do it as quickly and as painless as possible. Nothing more. I promise.” He surprised that he promises anything. Typically, he doesn’t use that word. But, it may make him feel better, and her feel better. Perhaps he can convince himself he isn’t really killing her. Bellatrix is the killer; he is just the tool.</p><p>               She sighs, in temporary relief. Draco supposes he will use Avada Kedavra. It is quick and painless as promised. Of course, there is the problem of him being unable to summon the energy to cast it. He supposes he can try. If it doesn’t work he can figure something else out. Maybe a poison that allows her to drift of to sleep, and slowly stopping her heart. He thinks about asking her how she would like to die. That would remove him even further from the process. But, as he looks at her face, he realizes her can’t do it. That would be to cruel. And she would probably say “Neither.”</p><p>               He does ask “Would you rather me count down, or just do it at a random time?” She considers a moment.</p><p>              “Count.” she answers. He nods.</p><p>              “Alright. Do you want to sit, or lie down?” She faces him.</p><p>             “I’d prefer to stand.” Draco is glad she says that. Perhaps he can pretend she is an enemy, facing him in battle.</p><p>               Draco wants to ask “Any last words?” but he feels it is perhaps a little to cliché so he instead says, “Do you need a minute, or is there anything you want to say.?” She looks at him in disbelief.</p><p>              “How about an infinite number of minutes and please don’t kill me?” she says with a small smile. He has the grace to blush slightly at the stupidity of his question. “Sorry. I’m ready” she says.</p><p>               Draco stands across from her. “Okay. I’ll count to three. Then, I’ll fire the killing curse.”</p><p>               “Alright.” Draco raises his wand.</p><p>               “One, two—”</p><p>                "Wait!” Astoria cries.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Astoria</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>Staring down Draco Malfoy’s wand was not how she imagined her death. He was being nice about the whole thing, which she is grateful for. As grateful as she can be to the man about to murder her. “One, two—” “Wait!” she had interrupted him. She has a promise to fulfill. There is the glaring problem of exactly how she was supposed to keep the promise if she was about to die. </p><p>               An idea popped into her head, straight from a well-loved book she was never supposed to have. <em>Arabian Nights</em>: the very book that sentenced her to death may very well save her life. It is all she has, her only chance of escape. She is filled with a sudden desire to live.  She is going to try it. It might only buy her a couple of minutes, but she will try.</p><p>               Draco lowers his wand. He looks sick, ghostly pale. Well, paler than he usually was. “Let me tell you a story.” Astoria declares. Draco looks confused.</p><p>               “What?”</p><p>               “Let me tell you a story. Before I die.”</p><p>               Draco looks as if he was debating himself. Astoria tries once more.</p><p>               “It’s my last wish.” Draco gives her a pained look. He runs his hands over his face, and rakes his hands furiously through his hair.</p><p>               “Alright.” He goes to the chair and sits down. “Fire away.” </p><p>               Astoria hasn’t thought this far ahead. She knows the stories she will tell him, but she isn't sure if she can be interesting enough to keep him entertained. Her father once told her that the best stories always have the truth buried in them, and she hoped it was true. She sits down on the bed and searches her mind frantically, searching for the words to the story. She has read over this story, scrawled in neat, careful ink hundreds of times. However, now that she needs the stories, her mind is suddenly blank. </p><p>               She looks at Draco for a moment, who for the time being, seems to be enjoying looking away from her. She would never admit it to him, but she has always listened when Daphne talked of him at school. She had found him fascinating as a child, and had a crush on him. A silly school girl crush. And now, her childhood crush was going to kill her. She would laugh if she could find the strength. She had watched him all throughout her years at Hogwarts, though he never spared her a second glance. And now, here he was.</p><p>               In order for her plan to work, she needed a good story. And Draco Malfoy was self-centered. She wasn’t sure if she could still call him egotistical. He looked rather defeated right now. But self-centered was not the same thing as egotistical. She could tell that he spent a lot of time think about himself. Good thoughts or bad thoughts. If Draco was going to be interested in her story, it had to be about him. It was a good thing all the stories she had to tell him were about him.</p><p>               Draco was looking at her now. “Well?” he asked. Astoria folds her hand neatly in her lap. “Sorry. I was gathering my thoughts. It’s going to be my last story. I have to make sure it’s a good one.” Draco looked as though he might almost smile. Good.</p><p>               “There once was a young prince. He spent his whole life living in a grand castle, and he was given almost everything he ever wanted. Toys, books, sweets, whatever he desired, he got. Perhaps that is why the prince found it so glaringly obvious when he did not receive what he desired. And whatever he did not receive became his deepest desire.”</p><p>               She is watching Draco intently. He seems to shift uncomfortably. She doesn’t think he has figured her out yet.</p><p>               “There was a cruel, powerful king, the prince’s father. The king was a difficult man. He expected much from the prince, and became displeased often and quickly. His respect and love were not freely given. The king believed that those must be earned. And so, when the prince began to realize this, he wanted, more than anything in the world to please his father.”</p><p>               Draco had been staring at the floor. He looks up at her now. “Pick a different story.” he demands. Astoria smirked. He was playing the spoiled prince very well. “Why? I’m the one about to die. Why do you care what story I tell?” Draco narrows his eyes. If he suspected the story was about him, she may have fooled him into ignorance now. “I don’t.” he mumbles crossly, now crossing his arms and gazing sullenly out the window.</p><p>               “The king trained the prince, teaching him all he knew. The prince soon began to act as his father did, believe as his father did, and dress as his father did. One day, the king gifted the prince with a shiny ball made of solid gold.”</p><p>               Draco smirks. “A snitch?” he asked. Astoria smiles and says “No. But if you would like to think of it as one you may.” Draco holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Your story. Not a snitch, it is” Astoria nods her thanks.</p><p>               “The prince, enamored with his first gift of approval, loved the golden ball more than all his possessions. The king told the prince, that it was time for him to go forth, into the world, and learn. The prince had never left the castle and had no friends his own age. And so, he took his golden ball, and went forth, to make his way in the world.”</p><p>               “The prince was playing with his golden ball near a lake. He was throwing it up into the air and catching it. A brave knight came to the lake. The prince saw how brave the knight was and envied him for it. However, the prince sought to make friends with the knight. He extended his hand in friendship.”</p><p>               Draco had a bored expression on his face. Astoria could tell he was listening, but that he did not find her story very exciting.<br/>              </p><p>“The knight, however, did not know or care that the young boy was a prince. He was not from this land, and the prince had no influence over him. The knight thought the prince a rather unpleasant sort and refused his friendship. The knight instead chose to make friends with a pauper and a homely scholar. He let the scholar sit by him and share his cup, and he let the pauper eat from his plate, naming him his squire. He invited them to be his dearest companions.”</p><p>Draco is now staring at her, his brow furrowed. Astoria has captured his attention once more.</p><p> </p><p>               “The prince threw his ball in anger, and the golden ball slipped into the lake below. The ball quickly lost it’s shiny luster. It had never been real gold. The ball was only fool’s gold. Perhaps the prince should learn not to trust the king. The king’s wisdom can prove faulty.”</p><p>               Draco is leaning forward, and flinches when Astoria reveals the ball had never been real gold. “Is that it?” Draco asks. “No. I haven’t gotten to the part about the thrilling revenge plot the prince plans against the knight.” Astoria answered. “Oh. Well perhaps you should have started with that.” Draco says, leaning forward in interest.  “Your right. I am rather tired now. I don’t think I can finish. You should just kill me now.”</p><p>               If Astoria remembered anything about Draco, it was that he was a completionist. He always had to have an answer. He, like her, hated the unknown.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Draco</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter 6~ Draco</p><p> </p><p>Draco is glaring at her now. He had known the story was to stall the inevitable. He had not expected this little trick. He supposes it is her revenge, a way of leaving him haunted by more than just her death. He sighs into his hands. He really doesn't want to kill her. And now, her story had brought up a wave of feelings he had buried for a long time. Maybe that’s why he could feel the desperate need for an ending clawing at him. He, foolishly, had allowed the story to get to him.</p><p>               Then, she says, barely above a whisper, “I suppose I could finish the story tomorrow.” The silence is suffocating. He realizes her ploy. It is stupid, pathetic, and down-right not going to work. <em>It wasn’t going to work.</em> One spell and he would be on a beach somewhere. Wondering how the prince got back at that rude little knight. Damn it.</p><p>               “Okay. Tomorrow. Tell me the ending of the story. I’ll be back tomorrow. That’s all I can give you, okay?” Astoria’s face lights up at her success, and Draco tries to ignore the relief that is spreading though his chest, because at least it doesn’t have to be tonight.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Astoria</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter 7~ Astoria</p><p> </p><p>Astoria is grinning. She knows that once he puts off killing her for one night, it will make it all the more easier to do it the next night, and all the more harder to kill her tomorrow. He turns and leaves, locking the door behind him. Astoria does not go to sleep, although she is tired. She has to remember the stories. She recites them, before drifting off to sleep.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Draco</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Draco apparates to Malfoy Manor. It is his first time really seeing it in four years. He walks through the gate, dodging an albino peacock that struts in his path. He doesn’t remember a very happy childhood. It was a childhood spent in luxury, but it wasn’t things he craved. He supposed it had been a very lonely childhood. No friends. Just his parents. Well, his mother. His father never spent much time with him. He hadn’t thought about that in years. He supposed being back at the manor was drudging up old memories.</p><p>               He wonders if Bellatrix would be staying here, and is relieved to find she is not. He could feel when she was around. Constant jabs of legilimency into his mind, in short, repeated bursts of energy. It gave him a headache.</p><p>               He is planning to go straight to his room. However, he is walking past the dining room, when he hears his mother call out. “Draco! Come eat with us.” He stops. He doesn't think he could eat, let alone face his parents. But, he has been spotted and there was no way around it.</p><p>               He enters the grand dining room, to find only two people sitting, his mother and father. An extra place setting had been laid out for him. He sits to the left of his mother, who turned and gave him a small smile. He feels a stab of guilt for not seeing her in so long. A couple letters here and there didn’t seem like enough, and yet he didn’t know what else to give her.</p><p>               Narcissa reaches over and grabs his hand, giving it a squeeze. “I’m so glad you are home. Tell me, what have you been up to these past few years. We see so little of you.” Draco fidgeted nervously. He could not tell them the truth, that he had been running. He had been running from the reality he helped create. He definitely could not tell them what, or rather who, he had been looking for.</p><p>               “I’ve been studying. I went to several old wizarding archaeological sites. I was researching some alchemical properties that ancient wizards studied and used.” There, a half truth. Draco did enjoy alchemy. And when he wasn’t drinking, searching for some witch to pass time with, or working on his other project, he would study alchemy.</p><p>              His mother gives him a smile and turns to his father. “That’s our Draco. Always took such an interest in the endeavors of the mind.” Draco has to fight the urge to snort. That was most certainly not the case. As a child he had been much more interested in the newest racing  broom rather than a book. Draco’s father seemed to agree with him.</p><p>“We remember a different son, Narcissa. I remember him to be far too undisciplined for such scholarly ventures. I suspect he has been off squandering his fortune on women and alcohol.”</p><p>               “Lucius, he only just got home. Let’s have this conversation later.” Narcissa pleads. Draco decides this was a perfect opportunity for an exit. His father would most certainly not be talking about this later and Draco isn’t prepared to offer excuses for what he had really been doing with most of his time.</p><p>“I see I’m not wanted. I’ll take dinner in my room.” Draco announces, storming out of the dining room. Normally, he wouldn’t be so dramatic. But his father’s words had offered him an excuse to leave, and he wasn’t sure he would get another one. He felt guilty about leaving his mother, but she would have to wait.</p><p>               As he lay in bed, at a much later hour, he couldn’t stop thinking about Astoria. Letting her tell the story had been a big mistake. He isn’t stupid. He knows who the prince is He knew who the king is. As far as who the knight is, why, it wasn’t hard to guess.</p><p>               It was a story he knew the ending to. What mattered more to him, was the way she told it. While he knew the story, he knew not the medium, and he knew not how she saw it. And, the fact that she thought him too stupid to figure out her plan or her stories was insulting as it was amusing.               </p><p>               He really would have to kill her tomorrow. While he knew Bellatrix had likely already forgot about Astoria, he didn’t think she would so easily forget her nephew. She would expect him to kill her. However, it was reasonable that he had gone home to rest before doing the deed. A day would be easy to explain away.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Astoria</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Draco arrived at, what she had to guess from looking out the window, early afternoon. He is carrying a paper bag, and he hands it to her. When she opens it, she realizes it's food. Her hunger, which had been dormant before, gnawed at her with new ferocity. It is a sandwich, with a bottle of pumpkin juice. Nothing fancy. Her last meal.</p><p>               “Thank you. I suppose this is my last meal.” Astoria says, forcing false good humor into her voice.</p><p>“Yeah. Sorry. I didn’t know what you liked. I had a sandwich earlier. I thought it was alright, so I brought you one.”  Draco said.</p><p>               Draco crosses the room and sits down in the chair. “Alright. Are you going to finish the story?” he asks. Astoria smiles at his eagerness. This was good.</p><p>“Yes. As promised. After, I eat of course.” She begins to eat, rather slowly. A long ten minutes later she still had a quarter of the sandwich left and had not even opened the pumpkin juice. Draco lets out a long, suffering sigh.</p><p>“Sorry. I’m just trying to savor it. It will be the last meal I will ever eat.” Astoria knows she is being a little melodramatic, but Draco seems to appreciate her joke, and her attempt at stalling, because he lets out a small laugh, and says no more about it.</p><p>               Ten minutes later, after her last slow swallow of pumpkin juice, she could stall no longer.</p><p>               “The prince, angry at the knight, began to plot ways to destroy him. However, trap after trap he laid. It never worked. The prince knew, that he would have to lay a trap that would lure the knight into trouble. And so, the prince knew of a timid boy that the knight had befriended. This boy had a glass figure, that he loved above all else.”</p><p>               “Like the golden ball?” Draco asks.</p><p>“No. The golden ball was not a gift. It was a placation. A false happiness. This glass figure was a gift given of love, and so, though not as flashy, it was all the more valuable.” Draco frowns and leans back in his chair.</p><p>               “The prince stole the glass figure from the boy, and climbed the tallest mountain, to place to the figure at the very top. This mountain peak was guarded by a fierce creature, for it was forbidden to climb to such heights. He then taunted the knight. For he had hurt a friend of the knight, and the mountain would be impossible for the timid boy to ever climb.”</p><p>“But the knight was brave, and talented. And so, he was able to climb the mountain, faster and greater than the prince ever did, and he retrieved the glass figure. But, he was not as stealthy as the prince. And so the guardian of the mountain caught the knight, just as the prince had hoped.”</p><p>Draco is smirking. Good, thinks Astoria. For she has not yet delivered the final blow.</p><p>“However, the guardian, so impressed with the knights skills, gave him a gift. The gift of flight. The knight sprouted beautiful wings and soared from the top of the mountain to the ground below, to adoration of all the people in the land.”</p><p>Draco crosses his arms. “That’s ridiculous. You said the prince was stealthier. Doesn’t he get rewarded for besting the knight at that?” Astoria shrugs.</p><p>“His reward was not being caught by the guardian.” Astoria offers.</p><p>“Sounds like the prince would have been better off being caught.” Draco remarks sourly. Astoria laughs.</p><p>“No, I don’t think so. I don’t think the guardian would have been as forgiving with the prince.”</p><p>“Is that the end?” Draco asks. Astoria’s heart skipped a beat.</p><p>“It is the end of the chapter but not the story. I guess you won’t get to hear of the cruel, powerful king’s folly” Draco, who had been leaning back in his chair, perks with sudden interest. She could tell by the look on his face, he hates himself for being interested, hates himself for hanging on to her every word. She hopes he hates himself for being unable to resist hearing her speak.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Draco</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Draco’s secret wish, one he had tried to curb, and bury within him, was to be liked. He could not stand the thought of people not liking him. If he was not liked, he wanted to feared, respected. That was better than being thought of as a failure, a coward, or someone to mock. He hated being laughed at.</p><p>               Draco knows that he shouldn’t care what others thought of him. He especially knows that he shouldn’t care what the girl he was about to kill thought of him. He really shouldn’t expect her to like him. But yet, she seemed to know a lot about him. And while her method of revealing her thoughts on his person were unconventional, they were intriguing. It is hard to kill the girl who made such an effort to reveal her thoughts to him. He wants to know how much she knows of him. He had puzzled out that her last story was simply a story of an incident from his first year at Hogwarts, one he barely remembers himself.</p><p>               And so, though it fills him with self-loathing, he says “Tell me of the king’s folly.” He tries to ignore the tug at his heart, when he sees her face break into a smile. While she is no great beauty like her sister, there was no denying she is an attractive girl. Her dark brown hair is full and thick, and her dark eyes are expressive and shining, a trait most woman he knows learned to stamp out long ago. They live in a world where emotions are better hidden. While Bellatrix said the girl was sickly, he can not see it. She is slim, but not in an unhealthy way, possessing many natural curves, a shape not expected of the ill.</p><p>               “Alright. If you insist.” Astoria jokes. Draco grants her a small smile in return. He knows the irony of the situation. It is her who is desperate to tell the stories. Although, if he is honest with himself, he is desperate to hear the stories, desperate to stall the inevitable. He cannot face killing her. He doubts his ability to even cast the curse.</p><p>               “The cruel king grew bitter and angry with the world around him. He took great stock in the nobility of the land, believing those with noble blood ought to be respected and revered. However, over his lifetime, respect for blood had faded, and respect for other virtues grew. People started to value who one was, over the contents in their veins. However, the cruel king coveted the old ways, and longed for their return.” Draco says nothing, and bites the inside of his lip. Astoria continues. “The cruel king wasted no time indoctrinating the prince to his beliefs. However, the prince was a disappointment to him, for he learned that the knight’s scholar had bested the prince in his studies. He wanted his son to be above others in all things and was most displeased to learn that he was not.”</p><p>               Draco stews for a moment, before asking “This king, why did he care so much if the prince got beat? Does he not love his son just the same?” Astoria narrows her eyes. Draco wonders if she has figured out that he know who the subjects of her little stories are. Astoria seems to think carefully before answering him.</p><p>“I think the king has a warped view of love. I do not know if the king loved the prince. Perhaps he did, and did not know how to show it.” Draco smiles a cruel smile. He does not like this story. It is reaching into places in his mind and heart that he had buried. This girl cannot possibly know anything about his father, and he does not appreciate her assumptions.</p><p>               She had no business prying into his life like this. Bringing up questions that he had wrestled with for years, is not his idea of a good story. He had always had doubts of his father’s love for him, and this girl giving her opinions on the matter is quite intrusive and annoying. “It is your story, shouldn’t you know?” Draco sneers.</p><p>               He can tell Astoria senses his annoyance and he experiences an odd sort of vindictive pleasure in the way fear and uncertainty begin to fill her eyes. He has the power after all. He holds her life in his hands, and here she is, making up a story to tell him his father didn’t love him. For what purpose? “I cannot know everything about the stories, for they are not mine. I am telling them to you, but that does not mean I crafted them myself.” Astoria responds. What did she mean they weren't her stories?</p><p>               Draco stands up. He had thought this would be a good idea. A part of him longs to finally confront these truths, and for whatever reason this girl seems equipped to help him do so. But, now, he just wants to leave. He wants to go anywhere, perhaps back to Moscow. He likes it there. Astoria flinches upon his standing, and the guilt returns.</p><p>               He hadn’t raised his wand, but Astoria also stands up from her place on the bed. She walks toward him slowly and whispers in his ear, “Your godfather made me promise to tell you these stories.” She has placed a hand on his arm and is gripping him firmly. His eyes widen in surprise. “</p><p>Snape is dead. What could he have possibly told you?” Draco barks. She sighs and says</p><p>“It was before his death. Right before the battle of Hogwarts, he gave me something. A memory. I couldn’t get access to a pensive for a few years, and by the time I was able to break into Professor Carrow’s office, you were gone.”</p><p>               Draco can barely breathe. His godfather is perhaps the only person who ever believed in him besides his mother. He was devastated to learn of his death, and guilty, because he had not treated his potions professor as kindly as he should have in those last few years. “A memory? What memory?” Drack asks.</p><p>               “Are you a legilimens?” Astoria asks, her voice barely above a whisper.</p><p>“I can cast the spell. Though if you at least mediocre at occlumency I won’t be able to  break through.” Draco replies. Astoria nods and then closes her eyes, and drops her hand from his arm to his hand grasping it. The gesture was surprisingly intimate and makes Draco flinch, although he does not pull away. “Let me show you.” she whispers, and she looks up at him. He nods and rests his forehead on hers, and whispered the spell “<em>Legilimens</em>"</p><p>               Astoria is sitting at a table in the Great Hall. To her left is Imogen Stretton and to her right is Hestia and Flora Carrow. She is watching him. He looks terrible and stares down at his plate, not even bothering to keep up with the pretense of eating. Stretton notices the subject of Astoria’s line of vision and giggles. “Staring at your crush again Ri?” He can feel Astoria’s embarrassment and the butterflies in her stomach when he looks up, catching her eye for a moment, and then looking away.</p><p>               Draco marvels that he barely even noticed this girl. She really is staring at him quite a lot. Astoria is blushing and looks down. “He just seems off lately. Haven’t you noticed?” Imogen shot the Carrow twins a look and rolled her eyes.</p><p>“No Ri. We haven’t. Although, we don't really watch him as much as you do. The only person who may have you beat is Parkinson”</p><p>               Draco knows this memory is from his sixth year at Hogwarts. He is surprised at how thin and pale he looks. He doesn’t know if he as ever looked that terrible in his life, although, as he thinks about his seventh year, he can probably recall a few times. Hestia turns to Astoria and says “Yeah. Why are you so fascinated with him? Ever since your first year.”</p><p>               This memory is fading, and a new one is materializing around him. This time she is at a ball, and he recognizes the place as Malfoy Manor. She looks very young, and if he had to guess he would say she was no more than eleven. Daphne is tugging her along, fussing over Astoria’s dress and murmuring something about her hair. Astoria yanks her hand from Daphne’s and remarks how she needs to use the restroom. Daphne rolls her eyes and tells her to be quick as she doesn’t want Astoria to miss the dancing. Astoria rolls her eyes, mumbling that no one will be asking her to dance anyway.</p><p>               She starts off down a long hallway, and it isn’t long before she is lost beyond hope. She passes painting after painting, room after room, and yet no sign of any sort of washroom. As she turns a corner her ears began to pick up yelling and the sound of someone crying. She wonders deeper into the labyrinth of hallways and comes across some old parlor of sorts. She peaks through the door. Draco can recognize the voice and a sick feeling churns in his stomach. He doesn’t want her to look. He tries to pull from the memory, but an unknown force seems to be holding him there.</p><p>               His father is standing in the center of the room, a cold and frightening sneer upon his face. He towers over, what can only be himself. A young, very frightened Draco, who is shamefully crying. “I can barely stand to call you a son of mine, while you cry like a cowardly little girl. Here I am, paying money for books and tutors, only for you to come and tell me that yet again, a filthy mudblood has bested you in every—” Lucius raises his cane, an impressive stick of ebony wood, crowned with a silver snake head, sporting glistening, sharp fangs— “single”, another hit, “subject.” Lucius finishes off with a nasty crack across his face, blood dripping from the cut.</p><p>               Draco is angry. This stupid little girl was watching something for his eyes only. This was supposed to private. Why didn’t she leave? At that thought, he sees Astoria turn and run. He can sense her fear, and worst of all her pity.</p><p>               The memory shifts yet again, this time the scene is the Hogwarts Express. There she is, watching him talk to Crabbe and Goyle. He thinks he may be in his third year, or possibly fourth. She is to far away for him to catch the topic of his past self’s conversation. She is watching him with concern. He can feel her emotions, the concern, the pity, the fear. He had thought she had a silly school-girl crush on him, and while he can feel that, its certainly only a small part of her fascination. He can feel that it's mostly concern for his wellbeing, and that irks him beyond belief. It’s only based on looks he hears her tell herself. It’s not as if she actually knows him. Of course, she may be the only one in the whole school who knows his darkest secret.</p><p>               The memory shifts again. It’s Astoria and she is waiting outside Snape’s office. Draco hears a voice call, “Are you planning to come into my office Miss Greengrass, or stand lurking out there all night.” Draco smiles at the familiarity of the voice, and aches to hear it again. Little Astoria Greengrass timidly opens the door and takes a few steps in. “What business do you have here tonight? It’s close to curfew Miss Greengrass.” Snape drones.</p><p>“I..er…well…” she stutters.</p><p>“Spit. It. Out.” the potions Professor hisses.</p><p>“I saw something at the Malfoy’s Christmas Eve Ball.” Astoria rushes out. Snape, who had been furiously writing on a student’s potions essay, sets down his quill, and looks up at Astoria, indicating for her to continue. “Mr. Malfoy,” Astoria paused, taking a deep breath, and then steeling herself, before continuing. “Mr. Malfoy was hitting Draco.” She says it in a rush, and it comes out fast, and jumbled. Yet, Professor Snape seems to understand what she said. He sighed, but says nothing. Astoria seems to falter at his silence, and tries to compensate by giving more information.</p><p>               “It was with his cane. It didn’t look like discipline. It looked really bad. I know a lot of people…” she pauses, searching for the right words, “in our community, you know, purebloods,.” She took another deep breath, rambling on “I know a lot of purebloods hit their children. It’s customary. But, it looked…more vicious. This was beyond discipline. This was dangerous.”</p><p>               Draco bristles. He could not believe she was telling on him, telling his business to others. Yet, he cannot not ignore, the tug he felt, the slight gratitude to the girl, who was clearly very distressed over what she had seen, and he knew, was attempting to help in some way.</p><p>               Professor Snape holds up a hand, silencing the girl. “Thank you, Miss Greengrass. I will attend to this matter.” he says. Astoria sighs in relief. He can hear her thoughts. There, she had told an adult, Draco would get help, and everything would be fine. She turns to walk out the door, when Snape calls “Miss Greengrass.” Astoria whips her head around. Snape gave her a blank look, and said “Are you friends with Mr. Malfoy?”</p><p>Astoria’s cheeks turn pink, and she says “No, we’ve never spoken. But, I just thought I should tell you.” Snape nods, his expression unreadable. “Very well. You may go.”</p><p>               The memory shifts again, and this time, it was back to his sixth year. He can hear Astoria’s thoughts clearly. He must be getting used to the legilimency because it is easier to see what she was thinking and feeling with each passing memory. Astoria hardly thought about him. She always payed attention when Daphne spoke of him, but otherwise, he had simply faded to the background of her life. She barely saw him, and when she did, she could not deny that he looked attractive. However, any silly thoughts of him noticing her, and being enamored with her were soon gone, replaced by more important things such as school, friends, her sister’s constant prying, and whether that Harper boy was ever going to ask her out.</p><p>               This time she is walking down the hall. It is after dinner, and Draco assumed it is the dinner in the first memory, but he can't be sure. It is the first time she had really looked at Draco in quite a few years, and boy, did he look awful. He looked gaunt, his skin grey, and his cheekbones hollow. There was a haunted look in his eyes. Gone was the confident, arrogant gleam, replaced by an emotion she couldn’t place.</p><p>               She is on the third floor and is headed to the girl’s bathroom, because she really didn’t want to face any more of her friends teasing. They meant well, but it was really starting to rub her the wrong way. The bathroom on the third floor would give her a few minutes to cool down, and she could face her friends without saying a few things she would regret later.</p><p>               At this point Draco is feeling dread. He knows what he did in the third floor girl’s bathroom. He hates that anyone had seen him like that. He hates that <em>she</em> had seen him like that.</p><p>               Astoria rounds the corner when she hears the crying. Her first thought is that it is simply moaning myrtle. But the crying doesn’t sound quite right. The cries are softer, subtler, and voice is deeper. These aren’t attention garnering sobs. These were the sort of sounds someone makes when they are crying, but they desperately want to stop.</p><p>               She peeks in the doorway, to find him, hunched over, hands braced on the sink, hair disheveled, staring at himself with such self-loathing that it shocks Draco to see himself like that again.</p><p>               Astoria’s eyes are drawn to his left fore arm. His sleeves are rolled up, and there it is, thick, black, and ugly. A mark that would forever mar his skin. She knows what it is. She has seen it on the forearms of her father’s friends and colleagues as they urge him to get one too. She has seen it drawn in the Slytherin common room, on pieces of spare parchment. She knows that it is dangerous.</p><p>               She turns, and quietly exists the bathroom. Draco can hear her wondering how in the world he had got himself into this mess. She knows what she has to do.</p><p>               Draco follows her down the hallway, though he already knows where she is going. Astoria reaches Snape's office yet again, and gives in a quiet knock. “Come in” he hears the potion’s master call.</p><p>Astoria steps in and before Snape can open his mouth she blurts out “If I tell you something, about a student, could you promise they won’t get in trouble? Could you promise that you would help them, instead of punishing them?” Draco supposes he should be grateful for her reluctance to rat him out, but he finds himself angry she even saw anything at all.</p><p>               “No. I won’t promise anything. However, if it’s the right situation, I could consider your request.” Snape replies. Draco snorts. Snape already knew everything Astoria was about to tell him. It made no difference what she said.</p><p>               Astoria looks down clearly wrestling with the dilemma. It appears that she decides to take the risk, because she says, in the softest whisper, “Draco has a dark mark.” Snape says nothing, just looking at her, his face impassive. Astoria began to wring her hands, clearly distressed. “It can’t mean anything good. Please, if you could just help him, maybe talk to him.”</p><p>               Draco shakes his head in disbelief. As if she could have any idea, as if she could ever understand what he had been going through. And then to attempt to tattle on him? If she had told the wrong professor, if she had gone to someone else, anyone else, if he had been caught and unable to complete his mission, he would have died. </p><p>               The memory shifts around him, and this time Astoria is racing up the staircase until she gets to the entrance to the Headmaster’s office. She looks older now, so he guesses this could be her fifth year. She looks unsure how to enter the office, simply staring at the stone gargoyle barring her way. However, the gargoyle moved away of it’s accord, meaning the Headmaster must have been expecting her.</p><p>               Draco see’s Snape come into view as Astoria bounds up the circular staircase, and he infers that it must be during his seventh year. Astoria looked around the circular room in wonder, gazing at all the portraits on the wall. He can feel her guilt when her eyes rest on Professor Dumbledore’s picture.</p><p>               “You asked to see me sir?” Astoria says, her voice, as always, small and quiet.</p><p>“Sit down, Miss Greengrass.” Snape gestured to the seat across his desk. Astoria took a seat, and nervously works her lip between her teeth. “You aren’t committed to the Dark Lord’s cause.” Snape says softly, his words cutting and crisp.</p><p>               Astoria’s face drops, and fear fills her eyes. “Yes. Yes I am.” She insisted fervently. She shrank down in her chair as if to disappear from his stony gaze.</p><p>“No you are not. Which is why, you may be the only one left that I can entrust this task to.” Astoria stands from her chair, moving to slowly back away.</p><p>“What do you mean?” her voice trembling. Snape pulls a vial out of the pocket in his robes. The vial is filled with shimmering, silvery liquid, that floats and dances in the light. He passes it to her.</p><p>“When you can, you will need to come up here, to the pensive.” He indicates a stone basin on a pedestal to his left. “Pour the vial into the water, and stick your head beneath the surface. You will see what I have for you.”</p><p>               Astoria looks at the vial in her hand. “If I refuse?” she questions. Snape reaches forward, across the desk to grab her shoulder, giving her a shake.</p><p>“This may very well be the most important thing you will do in your very pathetic, very short, existence. There are greater things at work here. You will do this. The consequences are far to great for you to refuse!” the potions master shouts, the portraits on the wall rattling with the volume.</p><p>               Astoria wrenches herself out of his grasp, her eyes frightened and wide. Draco watches as she turns to run. Snape calls out, stopping her. “Astoria!” she turns around, the use of her first name surprising her. “Lives depend on it. Draco’s life depends on it.” Astoria closes her eyes and sighs. “Promise me. When you discover the task I have for you, you will do it.” Astoria deliberates, and gives the Headmaster a resigned look.</p><p>“I’ll do it. But, why can’t you just tell me? Why can’t I use the pensive now?”</p><p>               Snape crosses the room to reach her and stands towering over her, his expression giving away his frustration at her questions. “I can’t tell you everything. If you were to be summoned before anyone who was halfway decent at legilimency, they would be able to discern what your task is. It is imperative that you never know how the pieces of what you are doing fit together.” Astoria opens her mouth to protest, but was cut off by Snape yet again. “You can’t use the pensive tonight. In a matter of minutes battle will be upon the school. Focus on staying alive. When you can, please, come back here, or find another pensive.”</p><p>               Astoria looks like she wanted to refuse, but Snape closes her hand around the vial and hisses vehemently “Promise me.” Astoria clutches the vial, and gives a singular nod of the head to Snape, before turning and running from the room.</p><p>               Draco wonders how many more memories could she have to show him, as the scene changes yet again. This time, Astoria is running, and chaos surrounds her. He recognizes the time and the place: The Battle of Hogwarts. Astoria is calling for her sister, frantically looking at every head of blonde hair she sees run past her. Then, her eyes fall on him. He looks bad. He has a few cuts an bruises on his face, and he is covered in soot. He can feel Astoria’s thoughts churning around him. For a moment, she debates breaking her promise to Snape.</p><p>               However she can’t. She can’t abandon him. This helpless boy, who she has watched for so long. She curses herself for her fascination. She curses herself for her need to fix things. She curses herself because she does not want him to die. And if Snape is to be believed, he will if she doesn’t whatever task he granted her right. An explosion lights her vision and she is thrown backwards, her world fading to black.</p><p>               Draco finds himself watching Astoria. She is talking to Imgoen Stretton in this new memory, and she is whispering urgently. “I just need you to distract Headmaster Carrow. I need ten minutes in his office.” She is pleading. Imgoen crosses her arms.</p><p>“No way Ri. This is such a bad idea. We have gone all seven years of Hogwarts without so much as a detention, and you want to mess it up on our last night here?”</p><p>“Look. I’ve been trying to get into that office for two years. I just want to see it before I graduate. Come on Imgoen. Just ten minutes.”</p><p>               Stretton sighs and closes her eyes. “I think that is absolute bullshit. You just want to see it? Well, I’m not buying it.” Astoria opens her mouth to object, but Stretton holds a hand up, interrupting her. “I don’t want to know what your reason is. I’ll do it. But if we get caught, I will rat you out in a heartbeat. I’m not risking the Carrows for you.”</p><p>               “Thank you Imogen.” Astoria says, embracing the girl, who tolerates the hug a few moments, before throwing her off. “Ten minutes. That’s all.” Imogen answers.</p><p>               Draco once again is watching Astoria in the Headmasters office. She is pouring the vial into the pensive, her eyes wide with fascination. She takes a deep breath, and sticks her head into the water. The scene around the both of them transforms. Professor Snape is in the potion’s storeroom. He is lifting the box of abraxas hair, in the very back of the very bottom shelf, and buries a small, thin, black leather journal, amongst the ingredients.</p><p>               Snape’s memory ends, and Astoria lifts her head out of the pensive, looking confused. Draco hears her wonder at the short memory, and he can’t help agree with her sentiment that it’s oddly anticlimactic. He watches Astoria carefully exit the office and wonder down to the dungeons.</p><p>               She reaches the potion’s classroom and murmurs a quick “Alohomora” to unlock the door. She moves through the dark rows of chairs, until she reaches the storeroom in the back. Sure enough, after another unlocking charm, at the very back, beneath the abraxas hair crate, there is a slim, black, leather journal. Astoria reaches for it, opening it, to find a letter, folded up inside.</p><p>               “Lumos” Draco hears Astoria mutter. She uses her wand light to read the letter:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>This is a book of stories. While seemingly insignificant and trivial, these stories hold great importance, for they are a code. Some are lessons, some are observations, some are vitally important revelations; they all hold power. The stories are all part of a larger one, a story that can save lives, a story that is a call to action. You will not know what they mean. Only Draco can decipher the code, and only Draco can do what is necessary. Commit these stories to memory. Leave nothing out. When you have done so, burn this journal. Find him, and tell him each story, each piece to the final whole. For these stories hold a great secret, one that only he can know. </em>
</p><p>               Draco can feel Astoria’s consciousness pulling back from his own, and he releases her. It is slightly disorienting to be back in the small room, with narrow windows. He looks down at her, and she is panting, seemingly out of breath. He feels an irrational anger towards her, which he knows is likely driven by shock and fear.</p><p>               “Tell me the stories” he says lowly, dangerously. Astoria takes a step back but he is still gripping her hand. “I will. I will tell them to you. I <em>want</em> to tell them to you.” Draco tightens his grip and Astoria winces. “Then do it.” He commands.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Astoria</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Astoria wishes she could just tell him the stories. However, her instinct to live, her own self-preservation tugs at her, whispering not to just give it away. These stories are her bargaining chip. “I will tell you one a day.”</p><p>               Draco whips his wand to her throat, not pressing hard. He doesn’t have to; his threat is clear. “No. Tell me them all. Now.” Astoria places her hand on his arm, over the hand that grips the wand. “I need to ensure my own life. I’ll tell them to you. Or you could kill me, but then you’ll never know. You’ll never know the last thing your godfather wanted you to know before his death.”</p><p>               Draco is glaring at her, and she knows he must hate her. It’s a huge risk not killing her, and he really has been as nice as her possibly could about it. But that doesn’t change the situation. It doesn’t change that she has to stay alive. She must. She has always known, that in her very soul she was meant for life. It seemed so cruel that fate would cut her already shortened life in half.</p><p>               “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” he shouts. “You had almost two years to tell me. And not once, did you ever attempt to!” Astoria glares at him. “You weren’t there. I tried to ask where you were but no one knew. I did my best, Draco.”</p><p>               Draco takes a deep breath and lowers his wand. He looks wild, panicked, and sick. She can see the guilt in his eyes. He doesn’t want to kill her. He doesn’t want to die himself. “I’m sorry. I know the situation it puts you in. I know you don’t want to do this. I can see it. But I have to look out for myself to. You would do the same thing. I know you would.” </p><p>               Draco turns without a word, and exits the room, the door slamming behind him. Astoria sinks to the bed and sobs. She’s really done it now.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>              </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Draco</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Draco stands outside the door, breathing heavily. His own thoughts are churning in his head, threatening to break his very skull open, promising to push his mind to the brink on insanity. He can hear her sobs from where he stands, and he knows that she thinks she has angered him beyond repair. He knows she must believe her life is spent, that he will return tomorrow, if not in a few moments, to kill her.    He intends to leave her there, letting her stew in the mess she created. He knew he was being played from the beginning, but he had not anticipated the extent he was playing the fool.</p><p>He would let her lay there all night, believing herself dead in a matter of hours. He intends to punish her, with the very threat of her death looming over her.  As her sobs reach a new level, frantic in their sounds, he feels himself deflate.</p><p>A younger him would have left her there, but he can’t seem to bring himself to do it. He knows, although he loathed to admit it, that she truly wishes him no ill will. Her plan is prudent, and he has to admire her scheming. He sighs and turns around. He wont’ let her off easy. He has questions she will answer. Not to mention, he has a few choice words he’d like to say to her.</p><p>He unlocks the door, hearing her startled gasp as she hears the key turn in the lock.  He opens the door to find her at the farthest corner of the bed, drawn up, pressed against the wall with no way to run. Her dark eyes widen, accompanied by her trembling frame. He feels his remaining anger dissipate; it is truly quite a pitiful sight. He raises his wand, although not pointing it at her. He simply holds it out for her to see</p><p>Astoria’s eyes dart between the wand and his face. He takes the wand and slowly puts it in his pocket, making sure his intent is clear. She lets out a breath, although her shaking does not subside. He slowly approaches the bed and sits on it, opposite to her. </p><p>“Calm yourself” he says, earning a “Can’t you see I’m trying?” sort of glare from Astoria. He shifts uncomfortably, not knowing what to do in this sort of situation. Tears are still running down her cheeks, cementing his already growing guilt.</p><p>Draco takes a hand, resting it on Astoria’s cheek, his thumb brushing away tear drops. He feels slightly awkward doing this, but he is driven by the urge to do <em>something, anything</em>, to just make her stop crying. He hates crying. Astoria’s eyes slip closed, and Draco whispers “Breathe.” He is slightly surprised that this works and is even more surprised that she doesn’t pull away.</p><p>He removes his hand, and stands, leaving her on the bed. He makes his way to the chair and sits in it. After a few moments, when she has well and truly calmed down, he says “I have a few things to say.” Astoria looks up at him, a blush coloring her cheeks. She seems slightly embarrassed at her actions. He was surprised himself at her breakdown, given her cool, calm demeanor just the other day. However, now that she has stopped her crying, he feels his previous anger return.</p><p>“Say them.” Astoria whispers. Draco leans forward, folding his hands, resting his forearms on his knees. “First, when you heard me and my father arguing, you should have walked away. Instead, you approached, like a little spy, to watch the show, only to slink away to make a report.” Draco’s voice is dripping with venom.  Astoria opens her mouth, but before she can get a word in, Draco continues. “It was not your business to meddle, nor was it appropriate to tell anyone what you saw.” </p><p>“Secondly, you repeated the same behavior. You heard something that wasn’t meant for your ears, and like a <em>snake</em>, you crawl to where I am, watching what I’m doing, and you see something you shouldn’t have.” Astoria narrows her eyes, and Draco can tell she is growing angry. He doesn’t care. He continues anyway. “And what do you do? After seeing something that you were <em>never</em> meant to see? You run straight to the nearest teacher to <em>tattle</em> on me. Do you have any idea what would have happened if I had failed to do that mission? Do you even know what you were jeopardizing?”</p><p>Astoria doesn’t answer his question, though he can tell she wants to. “Of course you didn’t know,” Draco continues. “<em>I </em>would have died. My <em>mother</em> would have died.”</p><p>Astoria shoots to her feet. He can see the anger dancing in her eyes. “Don’t interrupt me when I’m trying to speak.” She hisses. Draco lets out a mirthless laugh. “Was it not you, who was attempting to interrupt me?” Astoria purses her lips, and Draco leans back in his chair crossing his arms. “What is it you wish to say?”</p><p>Astoria sighs, and sits down in a huff. She closes her eyes and brings her hands up to massage her temples. She calms herself, which Draco finds frustrating. He wants to scream. He wants to fight. However, she speaks in calm, measured tones. “First, I’m sorry. Perhaps I shouldn’t have eavesdropped. However, I’m glad I did. I won’t apologize for what I did after. Telling a trusted adult, who was close to you, who cared about you, was the right thing to do. Both times. I’m sorry if you don’t agree, but I was only trying to help. I wasn’t spying. You will have to excuse my curious nature.”</p><p>Draco sneers. “I do not accept your apology.” He replies, cold venom lacing every word. “That’s okay. You don’t have to accept my apology.” What follows is several minutes of silence. Draco has looked away, not wanting to look at her any longer. He can feel her eyes on him, studying him.</p><p>“I don’t think less of you.” She says quietly. Draco eyes snap back to hers, to find them wide open and shining. She leans toward him, as if she is thinking of going to him, but stops. She continues anyway. “I don’t think any less of you. I know I saw you in a vulnerable position. That doesn’t make you weak. You aren't weak, Draco.”</p><p>Draco stares at her. This room is suddenly too small. It suffocates him and he needs to get out. He stands abruptly and says “I’ll be back tomorrow,” before turning, and practically running from the room.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Astoria</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey guys, I made some edits to chapter 5 because I realized some plot points may not have been as clear as I would have liked them to be. Chapter 5 is a short chapter anyway, and I really only added a few sentences in those first couple paragraphs. If you are reading this after 10/14/20, then don't worry about it. I do recommend going back, but it's not necessary. I included the quotes I added below, so if you want to read them without the extra context, feel free.</p><p>"Staring down Draco Malfoy’s wand was not how she imagined her death. He was being nice about the whole thing, which she was grateful for. As grateful as she could be to the man about to murder her. “One, two—” “Wait!” she had interrupted him. She had a promise to fulfill. There was the glaring problem of exactly how she was supposed to keep the promise if she was about to die. </p><p> An idea popped into her head, straight from a well-loved book she was never supposed to have. Arabian Nights: the very book that sentenced her to death may very well save her life. It was all she had, her only chance of escape. She was filled with a sudden desire to live.  She was going to try it. It might only buy her a couple of minutes, but she would try."</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Astoria sinks into the bed, more tired than she has ever been. His use of legilimency has exhausted her, not to mention her embarrassing actions in the face of what she thought would be her own death. Her mind feels frazzled and she worries whether she will be able to quiet her thoughts enough to fall asleep. </p><p>               She does, in the back of her mind, wish she had been able to find him earlier. Part of her thinks she could have avoided this mess if she had. As she closes her mind, she remembers her long, arduous search for Draco Malfoy.</p><p>               She remembers walking into the dining room, where her sister Daphne had wedding dress magazines spread around the table. Daphne looked up and says “Astoria! Come here! I need your opinion.” She held two cutouts, both huge ballgowns, covered in jewels. Each extremely expensive, and Astoria could hardly tell the difference between the two. “They are very nice.” Astoria said kindly, though she can’t quite agree. “I know. But which one?” Daphne questioned, and Astoria pointed to the right one on instinct.</p><p>               Astoria examined the other dresses on the table. “Which one do you like, for yourself?” Daphne asked her, pulling her in for a side hug. “It hardly matters Daphne.” Astoria said softly. It bothered her when Daphne did this, pretending that they were the same, that they could both live out the same life. Astoria knew her fate. She would likely live with Daphne and her husband, once they had children, taking care of her nieces and nephews. It was far preferable to her other option, to be given to some far older wizard, who’s wife was dead, and simply wanted to pass the time. After all, he already had children. It mattered not that his new wife could not do so without killing herself.               </p><p>               Daphne frowned and gave her sister a squeeze. “Just for fun Astoria.” Astoria decided to indulge her sister. After all, Daphne was excited about her wedding and Astoria didn’t want to put a damper on things. She looked at the gowns, before holding up a picture. It was an ivory trumpet gown covered in pretty lace. She held it up to Daphne who sniffed and said, “Rather plain, don’t you think Astoria?” Astoria smiled and said, “We always did have rather different tastes.” Daphne giggled and said, “True. I can’t believe I’m letting you pick the bridesmaids dresses.”</p><p>               Astoria smiled again and then fell quiet. She let Daphne prattle on about food and flowers before she moves on to the guestlist. Astoria had been waiting for this. “Will Draco Malfoy be there?” she asked. Daphne fell quiet and turned to look at her. “I’m inviting him. I doubt he’ll show. No one has seen him for nearly two years. Who knows what he’s up to!" Astoria remembers her disappointment. She had been sure he’d show. “Why? You interested?” Daphne joked, a slight edge to her voice. Astoria blushed and said, “No. Of course not. Stretton wanted me to ask.” Daphne laughed.  “I’ll have to invite her. Thanks for the reminder. I want some of your friends there too.”</p><p>               Astoria had told her she didn’t have to.  She didn’t talk to Imogen much at the wedding anyway. She had spent the time asking any and all Draco's friends if they had seen him. If suspicions arose, she simply said, “I have a book he let me borrow his seventh year. I never got a chance to return it. I feel bad, you know. It’s quite a rare copy.” It wasn’t a complete lie after all. His friends seemed completely ignorant to his location, even Pansy Parkinson, who she’d been sure would know where he was.</p><p>               She remembers the Malfoy’s Christmas Eve ball. She had been out of Hogwarts nearly half a year and she was sure that he would show up to the ball. He had to come home for Christmas. When she didn’t see him, she figured she would have to ask his mother. She caught sight of Narcissa disappearing from the ball room and moved to follow her into the long hallway. As she approached Narcissa Malfoy she couldn’t help but feel nervous. She wasn’t sure his mother would buy the book excuse. “Hello Mrs. Malfoy. This is a lovely ball you have put on.” Narcissa stared at her, appraising her appearance. Astoria fought the urge to nervously smooth her gown. “Thank you. I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of your acquaintance.” Narcissa replied. This had not been true. Astoria had met her six times before. She had long ago lost the energy to take offense at being forgotten. “Astoria Greengrass ma’am. I’m Daphne’s sister.” Narcissa widened her eyes at the mention of her name and Astoria shifted nervously. “Of course. I do know Daphne. How is she enjoying married life?” “Oh, very well. Although I wonder if she enjoys it as much as the wedding planning,” Astoria joked.</p><p>               Narcissa gave her a slight laugh in return. “Have you heard from Draco recently?” Astoria asked, doing her best to keep her tone light and conversational. Astoria had expected Narcissa to be surprised at her mentioning his name, but her face wore a rather bored expression. “No dear. I just had the same conversation with Miss Parkinson. I’m sure if Draco wants to contact you, he will.”</p><p>               Narcissa turned to leave but Astoria found herself desperately calling out “Please! It’s really important. I swear this is not some ploy to get his attention. It’s vital that I get in contact with him.”  Narcissa turned and gave Astoria a troubled look. “You aren’t pregnant, are you?” she asked urgently. “No!” Astoria gasped, mortified at the thought. Narcissa visibly relaxed and said “If I see him, I’ll tell him you were looking for him” clearly signaling the conversation was over.</p><p>               Astoria watched Narcissa walk away, and in a last-ditch effort, shouted “Snape! It’s about Snape.” Narcissa whipped around and stalked toward her. Narcissa clasped her hand around Astoria’s arm, and her nails dug painfully into her arm as she dragged her down the hallway, into a conservatory of some sort.</p><p>               Narcissa whips around, and her hair flashed in the moonlight streaming in from the windows. Her face was full of cold furry and Astoria began to fear she had made a big mistake. “Don’t say his name! If you had any sense, you wouldn’t speak his name. Do you have any idea the trouble we could be in if someone heard you?” Narcissa’s grip was growing tighter every word, and Astoria found herself crying out in pain. Narcissa acted as though she had not heard the cry.  “Please,” began Astoria. “I have to tell Draco something. It’s a message from Snape.”</p><p>               “No!” Narcissa shouted. “You will not speak of this to my son. You will not drag him into whatever foolish antics you are apart of. Whatever Snape told you, I suggest you forget it.!” Narcissa had flung Astoria from her and shouted “Go!”</p><p>               Astoria turned and fled. She apparated home as soon as she was in the gardens. All other attempts to reach Draco failed. No message she sent to his friends came back with any good information. She never spoke to Narcissa again. Although she was included on the next few invitations to the Christmas Eve Ball, she did not attend.</p><p>               She spent a wealth of time reading the journal, memorizing every word, every detail. She would recite it repeatedly, and the pages became increasingly worn with every frequent touch. Finally, when each word was cemented into her mind, she burned the journal, letting flames from her wand eat each page. She couldn’t help but feel like she lost an old friend.</p><p>               And always, she looked for Draco, in every word from her sister, in all the pages of the Daily Prophet. She even told her house elves to listen for his name. It was in vain, for he never appeared to her. There was never a revelation of his whereabouts. She thought all hope was lost. Until the day her world fell apart. Until the day they stormed her home and found her secrets.</p><p>               Astoria is nearly asleep now, and her last thought is a hand on her cheek, and a whisper to “breathe.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Draco</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Draco has to force himself to walk slowly. He realizes as he traverses down the long staircase and confusing maze of halls, that there are no guards. It strikes him as odd, and as he investigates the rooms on his way out, he discovers that there are no other prisoners here. Instead, just rows and rows of empty rooms. When he reaches the grand entrance, there are four guards posted at the door.</p><p>               These guards could pose a slew of problems for him, the most pressing being that they had seen him come and go two days in a row, and there was only one prisoner here. A day was easy to explain away, but if he came back tomorrow, and the deed was still not done, he’d be in a lot of trouble.</p><p>               He would have to figure out a way to fool the guards. He would have to keep them out of his business, apathetic to his comings and goings, and most importantly, away from Greengrass. He thought for a moment, before calling “Gentlemen!” The guards turned around as he strode toward them.</p><p>               “The prisoner. I suspect her of withholding sensitive information that would be useful to the Dark Lord. I can’t kill her until I get it. I’ll be here everyday until I find out what she’s hiding.” It’s a fine excuse, though perhaps not the best. It should buy them a month. The guards wouldn’t like to get between a Death Eater and his mission.</p><p>               He hasn’t thought of himself as a Death Eater in years. Abroad, he kept the mark hidden, wrapped in bandages. It had been easy to forget the mark branded into his skin. It had not been as easy to forget what he had done and what he had caused. Now, here he was, once again faced with an impossible task.</p><p>               He barely notices the guards nodding, nor their promises to offer him any assistance should he need it. He is already drowning in memories that he had run from for so long. It didn’t matter where he ran, they were always chasing him, stretching clinging fingers to grab at his coattail.</p><p>               He strode out the door and apparated to the Manor. He has barely made it through the door when his mother is striding toward him. “Draco. Mr. Nott is here to see you.” Draco looks over his shoulders to see Theodore Nott walking toward him, an easy smile on his lips, hands in the pockets of his robes. Draco was shocked at hearing his mother refer to him as “Mr. Nott” instead of “Theodore.” However, Theodore was a well-respected Death Eater and a wealthy landowner. He was no longer they boy Draco had gone to school with.</p><p>               It does not escape Draco’s mind that Nott likely knows he has been instructed to kill his sister-in-law.</p><p>               Draco see’s his mother step away, giving him a small smile before retreating down the hall. Theodore reaches him and clasps his hand in a firm handshake. “Malfoy! It’s been quite a while since I’ve last seen you. Where have you been?”</p><p>               Draco can feel his heart beating faster. He has forgotten how to operate in this world. He doesn’t remember the niceties of society and how to hold polite conversation. He is out of practice and in this situation, it could trouble. Lots of it.</p><p>               “Abroad. Taking some time to travel.” Nott gives him another easy smile, but upon closer inspection Draco can see he’s tense. “Well doesn’t that sound like fun! I’ve been working a lot. Daphne is always complaining, but you know the rules. Whatever our Lord requires.” Theodore laughs at that and Draco tries not to think about exactly what sort of “work” Nott had been up to.      </p><p>               “Right. You’re married now. Congratulations.” Draco adds, gesturing for Nott to follow him into the sitting room.  Nott sits down, lounging in a chair, propping his feet up on the coffee table. He looks at Draco sighs, almost sarcastically, and says “Well Malfoy, I guess you’ve figured out why I’m here.” Draco swallows nervously and sits down across from Nott but doesn’t say anything.</p><p>               “Look. I know it’s a nasty business. I honestly wouldn’t be here if Daphne hadn’t asked. Personally, I never liked the little bitch. She deserved what she got, little blood traitor. But you know, happy wife, happy life.”</p><p>               Draco tenses at Nott’s words. He tries to shove down the odd sort of protectiveness that arises. “What exactly are you asking me to do Nott?” Draco questions. Nott sighs and says “That’s just it. I’m not asking you to do anything. I’m here because Daphne begged me to talk to you. I’ll tell her the inevitable truth, that you’ve already bumped her off, Daphne will be upset, and who better to comfort her in her time of need than her husband?”  Nott finishes with a sickening smile, and Draco understands that this is not the boy he knew from school. This is a man corrupted by darkness. Draco wonders if he had stayed, if he had not gone in search of <em>her</em>, if he would have become like that. A darker thought crossed his mind, that perhaps he is on his way to becoming just as corrupted.</p><p>               Draco couldn’t help the curiosity he felt at Nott’s clear dislike of his sister-in-law. He had felt the mood in that courtroom. Most purebloods at that trial had not thought Astoria should have been sentenced to death. It didn’t escape his notice either, that Nott thought he already killed her. He decides it is best to keep it that way.</p><p>               “You seem to have a real problem with Greengrass. What’s the issue?” Draco asks. Nott grinned and said “Ah my friend. What <em>was</em> the issue!” Draco nods his head in assent and keep his questioning brow, encouraging Nott to disclose details.</p><p>               “Look. I always suspected she was a blood traitor, but her being Daphne’s sister and all, I didn’t really think I could do anything about it. She was always weird. She spent all her time locked up in her room and she hardly had any friends. Daphne said it was because she was sick, but she never looked that sick to me.” Draco is leaning forward with interest saying, “Surely you didn’t care if she spent time in her room.”</p><p>               “No, I guess not. Daphne and I live at my estate, but she was always at Greengrass Manor, trying to keep her sister company. Sometimes, I think she spent more time with her sister than me. And it was all because she was<em> sick</em>.” Draco wonders if Daphne knows what a awful bastard her husband is. “Well, I hardly think being sick is a crime Nott.” Draco says, losing interest in what is now appearing to be some twisted competition Nott has with his wife’s sick little sister.</p><p>                “Not to mention, all the money she was making me spend on finding a cure for that malediction. You want to know what’s funny? There isn’t a cure. Daphne knows it. She just doesn’t want to be the one to have to give up on her sister.” Nott laughs darkly. Draco is growing increasingly uncomfortable. Why Nott is choosing right now to unload every dark thought he has about his family, Draco doesn’t know. Draco doesn’t want to listen to the rants of a mad man, but he can’t think of how to stop it.</p><p>               Draco has a sinking feeling. He had always thought it odd for Greengrass Manor to be raided so suddenly. The Ministry couldn’t have known Greengrass read muggle books. They couldn’t have known, unless someone tipped them off. It was then that Draco knew that Nott turned her in.</p><p>               Draco stands and snarls “It’s best you leave. You shouldn’t have come in the first place.” His voice is hard, cold, and Draco marvels at how menacing his own voice sounds.</p><p>               Nott is standing now too, and his own hand goes for his wand. “Alright. I’ll leave. After all, it’s none of my concern anymore anyway. She is dead after all.” Draco refuses to answer, his face stony. Nott’s grin turns sinister. “She is dead, isn’t she?” he asks. “I must be honest. I was surprised you had the balls to do it. After all, you couldn’t kill Dumbledore. What’s to say you can kill her?”</p><p>               Draco is angry at the insinuation. He angry because it’s true. He’s too weak to kill her, and he knows it. Draco releases his wand and lies “You can tell Daphne it’s done. She’s dead. Now, get out Nott. Nott visibly relaxes and claps Draco on the back. “There we go! I must say I’m proud of you. It’s a surprise you were able to do it, but a good surprise all the same. I’ll have Daphne invite you around for dinner one of these days. She’ll be over it soon. Believe me, she understands how things are.”</p><p>               Nott turns to go and Draco doesn’t bother walking him to the door. He is already headed up to his room, and although he hears his mother call out to him as he passes one of the many solars, he ignores her. He reaches his chambers and sinks into an armchair in the far corner. “Shit” he whispers.</p><p>               This was bad. Perhaps he had assuaged Nott’s suspicions for a time, but it wouldn’t last forever. Especially since Nott was so eager to have Greengrass dead. That of course, was a mystery of itself. Surely, it couldn’t all be because of healing potions. While they could get expensive, it was nothing the Nott fortune couldn’t handle. Something else must be going on, but it was nothing he could deal with tonight. He’d ask Greengrass about it tomorrow.</p><p>               As he undressed for bed, his mind once again turned to the potions. It sounded like Greengrass needed several, and Draco didn’t have them. The last thing he needed was for her to die of some illness without ever explaining what his godfather wanted him to know. And, if was honest with himself, there was something else to it. He felt responsible for her, and he didn’t want to cause her any unnecessary pain.</p><p>               After all, Nott was right. He wouldn’t be able to kill her. It was more than not being able to cast the curse. He didn’t <em>want</em> to kill her. He tried to imagine himself casting the curse, and all he could see were shining dark eyes, full of mischievous light, growing dark, cold, and dead, with a flash of green light. He feels a wave of nausea and finds himself running into the adjoining washroom, the contents of his stomach emptying.</p><p>               <em>Weak</em>, he thinks to himself, leaning over the toilet. And then, there are her words, “You aren’t weak, Draco” ringing in his ears. The thought comes to him that perhaps she is only saying that because she knows it's what he wants to hear; she may say anything to him if she thinks it will save her life. He pushes the thought away. He doesn’t want to think about her right now. </p><p>               The memories that come next are not preferable either. All he can think of, is of another time, in another bathroom, nearly sick over killing someone else.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Astoria</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Astoria wakes sometime in the late afternoon, sunlight streaming through the window, hurting her eyes. She rises slightly and wonders when Draco is planning on arriving. She wishes she had a clock of some sort. Although, upon further reflection, Astoria decides a clock might not be such a good idea. Watching the minutes and seconds tick by until her death, along with being depressingly morbid, may just drive her insane.</p><p>               She wonders whether he really intends to kill her. She suspects he does not want to, but it’s not as if it matters. It is not up to Draco whether she lives or dies. It is nothing personal, and she knows that. It almost makes it worse. Her death will not be a crime of passion, or a sacrifice in battle. It will merely be an order, an unpleasant chore.</p><p>               As time passes, she begins to worry. It is rather late, and Draco still hasn’t arrived. The thought crosses her mind that he has been caught. Somehow, they found out she was still alive, and Draco was dead. They would be coming for her next; it was only a matter of time.</p><p>               Guilt rises to the surface at the thought of Draco’s death. While she certainly didn’t want to die, she didn’t want him to suffer the same fate either. To defy Bellatrix’s order would mean his death. There is more to it than that, though. She knows that Draco is somehow important; he has a role to play in this world. Professor Snape knew it. And while she isn’t sure what that role is, she knows it is important. She knows it is worth more than her life. His death is her failure.</p><p>               The Dark Lord was clear on his stance about Snape. He was a traitor, an Order spy. Of course, the Dark Lord knew it all along. No one can hide their mind from the Dark Lord.</p><p>Astoria rolls her eyes at this. It seems Snape had managed to fool the Dark Lord for a time. The thought is comforting, that he may not be as all knowing and all powerful as he claims.</p><p>She knew this task she had been given, was likely, in some shape or form, challenging the Dark Lord’s rule. The last story was clear on that matter. She couldn’t imagine what Draco had to do with defying the Dark Lord, but she hoped he would be able to go through with it. Draco would have to be brave, and she doubted the day would come when Draco Malfoy would be brave.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Draco</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Draco wakes when it is still dark outside, and the grandfather clock in the corner of the room tells him it’s half past five. He didn’t get much sleep last night, and though he tries, he can’t fall back asleep. An hour later, Draco drags himself out of bed, dressing himself, and running a comb through his hair.</p><p>               Draco used to be very meticulous about his appearance, but during his travels the habit slipped. There was no around who cared what his name was, no one around to remember what he looked like. His hair grew longer and hung closer to his ears, fringe falling in his face. He hardly ever wore suits and dress robes anymore, exchanging the formal wear for casual clothes. There was no place for dress shoes when you were climbing mountains in Switzerland or hiking through the Amazon rainforest. As he pulled a stiff suit out of his wardrobe, he couldn’t help but miss the jeans he had become accustomed to wearing.</p><p>               He strolls down to the breakfast room, entering only to find his mother already nibbling on a pastry, the daily prophet in her other hand. She looks up and looks equally surprised to see him up. “Draco. I’m surprised to find you up. How did you sleep?” “Good,” he lies. “And you?” Draco bends down to kiss his mother’s cheek before sitting down, reaching for a pasty himself. “Oh, I slept fine. Your father snored all night of course. I think this recent chill in the air gave him a bit of a cold. He always seems to catch one this time of year.” It’s hard for Draco to imagine his father doing something as mundane and human as snoring.</p><p>               He looks out the window. Fall was certainly here at the manor. The trees outside were a collage of reds, oranges, and yellows.</p><p>               “Draco?” his mother prompts, and he turns his head to look at her, raising his eyebrow in acknowledgement. “What did Mr. Nott want last night?” Draco’s blood runs cold. “Just following up on Aunt Bella’s assignment.” The phrase “Aunt Bella” leaves a bad taste in his mouth. He hardly thinks the name is befitting of such a twisted woman; she never looks like she could be anyone’s aunt.</p><p>               “Oh? Bella never told me she gave you any sort of assignment. What did she want?” Draco pours himself a cup of tea and says “You know, she asked me to go to the trials? Well, the Greengrass girl. Astoria. Aunt Bella sentenced her to death.” Narcissa gasped. “Really? A pureblooded young lady? Whatever for?”</p><p>               Draco fights not to roll his eyes at his mother’s naïve notion that pure blood guarantees safety. Nothing will save you from Bellatrix’s wrath, not even blood. It’s funny, really. His parents and friends fought this war for blood, power, and glory. However, after winning the war, Draco could not see how they were any better off then they had been before. In his opinion they were worse. There was no power or glory to be had under rule of a tyrant. Only fear. Constant, suffocating fear.</p><p>               “Draco. What did she do?” his mother asks again, calling him from his thoughts. “She was caught with two muggle books. A rather minor offense, really.” Narcissa shakes her head and sighs. “Poor Aspasia. To lose her husband and her daughter so close together. Why, I can’t imagine.” Draco looks up in surprise. “Mr. Greengrass is dead?”</p><p>               “Oh yes. Draco, it was quite an awful thing. They say Astoria found him hanging from the rafters in the library. A suicide.” Draco winces at the awful image. He feels sorry for her, unable to imagine how that must have felt. He absentmindedly sips his tea, barely tasting it, lost in thought.</p><p>               “Draco. Your assignment. You never said what it was.” Draco flinches and tries to stop his voice from shaking as he says “The Greengrass girl. I was to kill her.” His mother looks at him, blue eyes wide. He looks away quickly, unable to meet her eyes. “Did you?” she whispered softly. Draco closes his eyes at the question. “Yes. I did.” He lies, praying his mother can’t see through him. Of course, he hardly needs to worry. He has always been a good liar.</p><p>               His mother reaches across the table and places a hand on his arm. “Oh Draco. I never wanted this for you.” Draco shoots up, wrenching out of her grasp. “What did you want!?” Draco shouts. “Because the way I see it, you’ve always fought for this world. You wanted it. <em>I </em>wanted it. Well, look where we are now. It’s a <em>fucking dream</em>!”</p><p>               Draco watches his mother desperately reach out to grab him, but he dodges her advance. She sighs heavily, and Draco can see how tired his mother looks. “Draco. You must know that I had never imagined things would become this way. I didn’t know, I couldn’t know, what life would be like under his rule.” Draco sighs heavily and says “It doesn’t matter. We stood by and let it happen. We made this bed. It’s time to lie in it.” With that, he turns and leaves the room. He has to much to do today, and if he’s honest, he doesn’t have time to argue with his mother. His father will be up soon, and Draco wishes to spare himself the unpleasantness.</p><p>               Draco runs through the mental list he made last night of what he wants to accomplish today. He had reconciled that Astoria would be spending a lot more time in that room then he had intended. She would need some way to use the restroom and bathe, as well as another set of clothes.</p><p>               He also was also concerned about the potions. He knows she must need them and doesn’t want to prolong her getting the medication she needs. The idea crosses his mind to just go to St. Mungo’s and view her medical records. Of course, he thinks, that is so incredibly invasive. It would be better just to ask her what she needs.</p><p>               Now that he is back home, he wants to do some research in his family’s library, which is arguably the most stocked after the Hogwarts’s Library. As he enters the library, he searches the rows for a book that could help him in his task.  After several minutes, he comes across a book called <em>The Art of Finding: Magic for Those Who Have Lost. </em>Brilliant. This was exactly what he needed.</p><p>               He pulled the book of the shelves and began looking through it. He saw spell after spell for finding objects that were lost; there was nothing about finding people. He was about to give up hope when he came across a passage:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Objects are relatively easy to find. Even those with heavy enchantment can be located if one only knows the right spell. However, finding a person is an entirely different matter. Locator spells have similar properties to summoning charms, excluding in some cases that the distance of the target has no effect on one’s ability to summon the said object. However, they share the inability to work on living things. While one can summon something a person is holding or wearing, this would be incredibly dangerous, as objects can travel up to the speed of light when summoning charms are used. Thus, when trying to find a person it would be very unwise to summon them. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The next option to discuss is naturally, the tracking spell Appare Vestigium. This spell will reveal by illumination recent magical activity as well as magical track marks and footprints. However, if the person you are looking for as been gone a long time, than it is futile to cast the spell. It should also be noted, that unless you know the general location of the lost person, the spell will not be able to travel that distance. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>This brings us to another possibility. There have been cases, such as Britain’s Ministry of Magic, as a part of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, of a Trace. However, this only works if the spell has been cast before the person is lost. If the person is over the age of seventeen, the Trace will not work. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The fourth option is a simple variation of the spell Revelio. Using the spell Homenum Revelio will reveal nearby human beings in the area. This of course will work wonderfully, as long as the person you are trying to find is within a close distance. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>As far as finding people who are an unknown distance, there is only one known possibility, and it is not sure to work. It requires the possession and use, of a very rare object: a deluminator. A deluminator’s main function is to take and release light. However, it has been said that it is possible for the deluminator to play pieces of a conversation, if the owner of the deluminator’s name is mentioned. The deluminator will allow them to apparate to the location of the conversation. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Unfortunately, there are very little know spells for finding someone. Sadly, most forms of magic will not be helpful in this situation. Nevertheless, there is a form of dark magic one could use. While dark magic is certainly not advised, it is an author’s duty to educate on all possible solutions to a problem. Casting a Taboo on a word will allow the caster to know the location of the speaker of the word. It is a powerful spell and a tricky one to master, not to mention extremely invasive. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Draco sighs and closes the book, slipping it back on the shelf. It seemed finding a person the magical way was incredibly difficult. He had already tried the manual way, to no avail. Draco didn’t know where he could get a deluminator. They were extremely rare, and he didn’t know anyone that had one. Besides, he isn’t sure if <em>she</em> would even talk about him anyway.</p><p>               Casting a taboo seemed to be the best option, but he has no way of knowing the incantation, or the spell properties. Nor does he know the right word to cast the taboo on. Anyways, difficult spells tended not to work for him, after he lost his wand.  He supposed that somewhere out there, Potter still had his Hawthorn wand. He ached for it, as no other wand he had tried seemed to understand him quite the same. His father had attempted to replace it with a Fir and Dragon Heartstring wand. That wand worked horribly for him. It was almost as if it was expecting him to be something he could not. On his travels he had gotten a new wand, a Maple and Unicorn Hair. This one worked remarkably better, although not quite the same and the Hawthorne.</p><p>He sighs and his eyes fall on the clock. He realizes he spent far more time in the library then he had expected. He still has items to pick up from Diagon Alley for Astoria. He clutches his wand and apparates to Diagon Alley.</p><p>He hasn’t been in a very long time. Ollivanders has been replaced by Shafiq’s Wands. He didn’t know the Shafiq family could even make wands. Other shops are boarded up or have been replaced by another business that sells the same product. The streets are mostly empty and everyone who walks them looks cautious and scared, as if one wrong step may put them in harms’ way.</p><p>There are Death Eaters every few feet observing the people on the streets, giving off a very intimidating air. He watches one death eater stop a woman with straight dark hair, pulled up into a slick ponytail. Draco eases forward so he can hear the conversation.</p><p>“Where are you headed Mrs. Macmillan?” the Death Eater asks. “Just coming back from Scribbulus. Is there a problem?” the woman says, her voice taking on a confrontational tone. The Death Eater leer and leans forward. “I don’t know Macmillan. Word on the street is that your husband was seen fighting for the D.A during the battle. Wouldn’t be surprised if you were smuggling some contraband to him. Might have to search you.” The Death Eater yanks on the woman’s robes, trying to pull off the outer layer. The woman reaches for her wand, and Draco recognizes her as Pansy Parkinson.</p><p>“Pansy!” he shouts. Pansy turns toward him, open-mouthed. Draco strides to where the Death Eater is and says “Sorry sir. We were just about to meet for lunch. Is there a problem?” It crosses Draco’s mind to casually roll up his sleeves and showcase the mark. But, like always, his mark is wrapped in bandages. “Malfoy? Where have you been?” the Death Eater asks suspiciously. Draco is very tired of everyone asking him this question. “I’m back. Aunt Bella sent for me.” he replies. If he can’t show his mark, reminding the man of his connections should get him off his back. Unsurprisingly, it works. “Well, enjoy lunch.” the Death Eater replies before dismissing them with a gesture.</p><p>Draco nods toward The Leaky Cauldron and Pansy follows him. She doesn’t talk to him, which he is grateful yet. He doesn’t want to talk until they are somewhere quiet. Pansy is smart enough to pick up on this. Draco holds the door open for her, and then leads her to a table in the very back. He casts a quick <em>Muffliato</em>, and as soon as the spell is uttered Pansy says “Where the fuck have you been?”</p><p>Draco groans. “Everyone always wants to know that.” he grumbles. Pansy glares at him from across the table. “Well, that’s what happens when you disappear without a word for a little over four years. You didn’t tell anyone where you were going or what you were doing. You just left.” she says.</p><p>Draco looks at her and imagines how she must feel. He can’t deny that Pansy and he had had an understanding about the nature of their relationship. He wasn’t naïve enough to call it love. But, they were brought up in a world of arranged marriages and strategic matching. When he left, it no doubt messed up her plans. Every respectable pureblood witch marries, and Pansy would have to find another match. He wonders how long she spent waiting for him to come back.</p><p>“I’m sorry Pansy. Really. I just had to get away.” Draco says, his tone guilty. It’s the closest to being honest about his absence he has been with anyone yet. Pansy scoffs and doesn’t reply. He tries again. “Look. Leaving without informing you of my absence was wrong. I’m sorry you had to make other arrangement.” Draco says, apology foreign on his tongue, punctuated with a gesture to Pansy’s wedding ring.</p><p>Pansy rolls her eyes. “Oh, please Draco. That isn’t what this is about. You really think I’m still hung up on some stupid promise you made when we were sixteen? You think I’m angry over a guy I snogged a few times in my teens? Give me some credit!” she says bitterly. Draco feels relief spreading through him, grateful she felt the same way about the situation that he did.</p><p>“I’m upset because you disappeared. I’m your friend Draco. I expected you to at least be honest. I expected you to at least write a note.” Pansy says, her tone softer. Draco feels shocked at her words, no idea she considered him her friend. He wasn’t sure he deserved the title, if he was honest.</p><p>“It wasn’t intentional.” he says, even though it was. Pansy doesn’t even deign him with a response, waving for some drinks. When two firewhiskeys are set on the table by the very grumpy barmaid, Draco asks “How’d you end up with Macmillan?”</p><p>Pansy sighs, taking a sip of her firewhiskey. “I had a job teaching etiquette and genealogy at the Pureblood Reeducation Center. I met Ernie there. After his stunt at the battle, he was lucky to be sent to the Center. I guess they didn’t want to waste pure blood.” Draco raises his eyebrows and takes a sip of his own firewhiskey.</p><p>Pansy continued. “He was scared. He was looking for a way out, and due to someone’s untimely disappearance,” Pansy shot a glare at him, “I was in need of a husband from the Twenty-Eight.” “Ah. A marriage of convenience.” Draco remarks.</p><p>“Not really. I mean, I guess it started that way. Marrying me took a lot of suspicion off Ernie. People took it as a sign that he was truly converted. I got everyone off my back about getting married, and I got to quit my job. We found each other attractive, so it wasn’t a doomed match. It was honestly, very similar to the way I felt about you.” Draco’s confused expression caused Pansy to laugh and continue.</p><p>“I mean, I was never in love with you. I found you attractive, sure. I knew if my lots were casted with you, I would end up reasonably happy, which is a lot better than some people get.” Draco nods and says “Yeah. That’s true. I suppose it was more of a safe bet than anything else.”</p><p>Pansy nods in agreement and says “Exactly. Ernie surprised me though. I actually fell in love with him. I wasn’t expecting that at all. I suppose he makes me happier than I ever thought he would.” Draco is surprised she says “love.” He didn’t remember a time when his parents used that word. Most people in their community didn’t. The Dark Lord wasn’t fond of love. “And you? Does he love you?” Draco asks, stumbling over the word.</p><p>Pansy smirks and says “Of course. I wasn’t worried about him falling in love with me. I knew he would.” Draco laughs at her response and finishes his drink.</p><p>“Look. I’ve got to get going. I promised I’d meet Daphne. She has been absolutely inconsolable since, well, you know.” Pansy says. Draco nods and tries to ignore the pit in his stomach at the mention of her name. Draco finds himself wanting to say something to Pansy about Daphne. His normal policy was to never meddle, never get involved. But, Theodore had made him uncomfortable last night, and he thought he should at least mention something.</p><p>“Pansy. About Daphne. She should really watch out for Nott. He’s changed since we were in school. There is something off about him.” Pansy sighs and says “I know. He is absolutely besotted with Daphne. He treats her well, although he is controlling. Of course, I can’t think of any husband who isn’t.” Draco shifts uncomfortably. He can’t help but agree. Growing up, he didn’t know a pure blood marriage that wasn’t like that.  “But, he definitely takes things to far sometimes. He never hurts her, but sometimes he says things that really hurt her feelings.” Pansy adds.</p><p>“I see.” Draco murmurs. Pansy seems to sense his interest and continues. “I think they mainly fought about Astoria. Nott was convinced Astoria was a blood traitor, which made Daphne really upset. Then of course, Nott tried to marry Astoria off. As you can imagine, that didn’t go over well with Daphne.” “Marry her off?” Draco asks. He has to figure out the real reason that Nott wanted to kill Astoria. He needs to make sure that Nott doesn’t find out Astoria is alive, and he needs to know why he wanted to off his sister in law in the first place to do that.</p><p>“Well, yeah. After Mr. Greengrass killed himself, Astoria and Mrs. Greengrass became the responsibility of Theodore. Theodore started acting strange. He didn’t want Astoria in his house at all and seemed desperate to get her out of the way. So, he learned Rowle’s wife had died a year ago, and was trying to arrange Astoria with him.” Pansy explained.</p><p>Draco grimaced. “Rowle has got to be over half her age!” he nearly shouted in disgust. Pansy shared a look similar to his own and said “I know. I was surprised he would even suggest it. Daphne was furious of course. Nott tried to excuse himself by saying that because of Astoria’s illness she wasn’t going to get anything better. This of course, made Daphne even more furious.”</p><p>Draco was always uncomfortable when confronted with the sheer awfulness of the high society he was apart of. What he hadn’t noticed growing up, what he didn’t bother paying attention to was becoming glaringly obvious. Pureblood society was rife with a dark sickness, a sickness he had been a part of, one he wasn’t sure could be cured. “I just don’t get why Nott would have such a problem with Astoria.” Draco says.</p><p>Pansy lifts a shoulder and says “I don’t know. Like I said, he thought she was a blood traitor. Which I suppose he turned out to be right. Anyway, you know how people feel about that. It’s one thing to be muggle-born. You are always the enemy then. But to actually betray the community, the tradition, your own birthright? They take it personally. Nott is no exception. He also had some crazy ideas about her blood curse. He was convinced her magic was rebelling against her because she wasn’t worthy to have it.” Draco shakes his head at the ridiculous notion. Pansy is eyeing him. She looks unsure of what she is about to say, and Draco feels his heart drop.</p><p>“Draco. Is it true? That you killed her?” Pansy asks softly. Draco is not surprised by the question, but he hates it, nonetheless. He debates whether or not he can trust Pansy and regrettably decides he can’t. She may say he is her friend. But, she thought Astoria was a blood traitor, and whether or not she agreed with the harsh sentence, she wouldn’t want to have been found to know that he defied an order without informing the proper authorities. Telling Pansy put her at risk, and he didn’t want to drag her into his mess.</p><p>“Yeah. I did. I’m sorry. It had to be done.” Draco says, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice. Pansy nods, resigned. “I know.” There is a long silence, and then Pansy stands. “Listen, I really have to leave. I’m glad your back. Maybe you can come by sometime and meet Ernie.” Pansy says. Draco smirks and drawls “The famous Hufflepuff. I’ll have to make time for it.” Pansy rolls her eyes and gives him a small wave.</p><p>Pany’s story puzzled him. If he is honest with himself, he still didn’t buy that Nott went through all the trouble of getting Astoria killed, simply because of an illness and the notion she was a blood traitor. Besides, there was no guarantee that she would have even been sentenced to death. In fact, in all likelihood, she wouldn’t have been.</p><p>Draco decides working through it would have to wait. Astoria still needed a few things, and he didn’t want to keep her waiting any longer than he had to. She is probably starving by now, and he feels the familiar feeling of guilt gnaw at him. He hopes his gold can help erase it.</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Astoria</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Although she can’t remember it, at some point she must have fallen asleep because the sound of the door opening awakens her. Her eyes snap open and she sits quickly, feeling herself relax once she sees it’s Draco.</p><p>“Hey. I brought you some things.” Draco says. He holds out a few shopping bags like an offering. Astoria nods and Draco sits them down and the floor and begins to go through them. “Alright. So I bought you another set of clothes.” Draco says, lifting up a set of expensive looking green robes. Astoria doesn’t know why he would bother buying robes so expensive, but she likes the way they sparkle and the neat silver belt that ties around the waist.</p><p>“Wait. I should have given you the food first.” Draco says giving her a rather big bag. She has to fight the smile at his giddy expression showing her all the stuff he bought. Astoria knows he is trying to throw money at her to appease her in this very difficult situation. But there is an oddly boyish smile on his face, one she didn’t think she would ever see.</p><p>In the bag, there is all manner of sweets, biscuits, a few apples, crackers, and another sandwich. Not to mention several bottles of water, pumpkin juice, and butterbeer.</p><p>Draco holds up another bag. “I also got some necessary items. You know, toiletries.” Astoria reaches out and takes it. Inside there is soap, toothbrush, toothpaste, toilet paper, and some other products she might need. </p><p>               “I was looking through the house yesterday, and I noticed a washroom next to this room, so I’m going to create a doorway.”</p><p>Astoria blushes slightly and says “Thank you. This is really nice.” She smiles at him and he looks at her, before quickly turning from her. </p><p>“Least I could do.” is all he says in return lifting his wand, starting the spell work on the door.</p><p>Astoria watches him for a few moments. His hair is unkept, a look she never remembered seeing on him, and she smiles softly when he brushes it out of his face every few seconds. As he waves his wand, his suit jacket pulls around the muscles in his shoulders. He has a lithe frame, broad shoulders tapering to a lean form. He is undeniably very attractive. Pity he will kill her.</p><p>He must have sensed her looking at him, because he turns around, his eyes widening in surprise. Usually, he is the first to look away. But the gaze he gives her is so unlike any way that he has looked at her before, that it is her who blushes and looks at the floor.</p><p>“Eat something.” he orders. She wonders if he ever notices the slightly commanding tone his voice takes. He never commands her with malice, or in a way that would make her feel afraid if she did not obey. It is as if it is second nature to him, to give orders and to have them followed.</p><p>She wants to test him, and so she says “I’m not hungry.” She looks back to see he has an incredulous expression on his face.</p><p>“What? Did I get the wrong things?” he asks. She supposes it is rather far-fetched, that after not eating anything in twenty-four hours, that she wouldn’t be hungry.</p><p>“No. You did fine. I just don’t feel hungry.” Frustration crosses his features and although he narrows his eyes, he simply shrugs, and turns to continue his work. She continues watching him, and every so often he shakes his arm in irritation, shooting his wand a glare.</p><p>“Something wrong with your wand? You keep giving it a death-glare.” Astoria asks playfully.</p><p>Draco sighs and says “This wand isn’t my first wand. This one is Maple, which works fine. But my Hawthorne always worked best for me.” Astoria wants to know how he lost it, but she can sense it is a difficult subject.</p><p>Draco finishes the door, opens it, and invites her to come look with a nod. Astoria stands and walks to the doorway. A clawfoot tub sat in oner corner, and in the opposite corner there was a toilet next to a sink and mirror. Simple but sufficient.</p><p>“Thank you. Seriously. I really needed a bath.” Astoria jokes. Draco smirks in response, before exiting the small bathroom and taking a seat outside. Astoria doesn’t miss  the door that must have led from the washroom to the hallway is gone.</p><p>Astoria exits and takes her familiar place on the bed. Draco’s eyes go to the food and he looks uncomfortable with something.</p><p>Astoria is about to offer him a Chocolate Frog when he says “Do you feel sick? Is that why you won’t eat?” Astoria’s eyes widen and she wonders how he knows. Of course, he knows, she thinks. He heard his aunt say it at the trial. Everyone knows now.</p><p>She says, “No. I suppose I was just nervous. I’m not feeling sick.” Draco nods.</p><p>“Look,” Draco says awkwardly, and Astoria braces herself. Whatever he wants to say, he looks extremely uncomfortable.</p><p>“What potions do you need? I’ll get them for you.” Draco pulls out a quill and a piece of parchment out of his suit pocket, poised to write a list of what she needs. Astoria is very red now, and her eyes widen. Draco furrows his eyebrows and Astoria hopes he can’t see the fear on her face, although he probably can. She was never good at hiding her emotions.</p><p>“You don’t have to do that. The potions can be,” she pauses, wringing her hands. “The potions can be expensive.”</p><p>Draco smirks and laughs. “Greengrass. I’m the heir to the largest wizarding fortune in Britain. I think I can handle your potions.” Astoria still feels apprehensive. She believes in being fair, and when possible, giving someone the whole truth.</p><p>“Listen. The stories. There were ten in total. There are nine left. So, in nine days it won’t really matter. I can survive nine days without the potions.”  Astoria says, her voice growing softer as she continued.</p><p>There it is, the heavy uncomfortable truth. She had nine days left to live. Nine days, and it would all be over. She would have kept her promise, the last one she would ever keep. She glances at Draco to find him looking at her intently. He looks beautiful this way, like a painting. His face looks conflicted, tortured.</p><p>His eyes are a storm, a constant churn of emotions beneath the steely gray. Usually they are hidden from her, but tonight he lets her see his haunted expression. She takes comfort in the fact that when he does kill her, it will stay with him forever. She will be a phantom in his nightmares.</p><p>Astoria watches him clench his eyes shut, as though to close her out. When he opens them again, the eyes are back to the cold, impenetrable grey, beautiful in their distance. His feelings are lost to her.</p><p>“Just tell me what you need.” Draco whispers and Astoria’s eyes widen in shock. This gives her hope. It is a cruel, distant hope, one she can barely cling to. Perhaps he doesn’t intend to kill her. Or, this is just another way to bury his guilt before he does.</p><p>Astoria lists all the potions she takes. There are fifteen in total, all with a variety of different ingredients and names. She watches Draco carefully, but she can see no signs of disgust, no protest that she is to high maintenance. It is a shame that her killer has to be so kind.</p><p>Astoria sees Draco eyeing the food again, and so she takes out a package of crackers and eats them. Draco watches her carefully, studying her every move. He seems to be drinking her in, and she can’t imagine why he would want to torture himself this way.</p><p>Finally, when she had finished, Draco asks “So, you don’t know what the stories mean?” Astoria gives it some thought before answering.</p><p>“Some of them I have been able to figure out. I think I’ve figured out who most of the characters are. That is the main purpose of the first story. It’s a key for the rest of the stories, a legend if you will.”</p><p>Draco nods his head in thought. “I see. But as far as what the stories mean, you don’t have answers?” Draco asks.</p><p>“Well, some I think I have figured out and others, the more important ones, I have no idea what they refer to.” Astoria murmurs. She thinks for a moment before adding, “It’s a risk for me to know the true meaning. If someone were to look through my mind, searching for the secret, they will not find it. I’ll know the story and they will to. But only you will glean meaning. It’s a safeguard.”</p><p>Draco nods like he understands. “So the prince is me. The cruel king, my father. The knight is Potter, the pauper turned squire is Weasley, and the scholar is Granger?” Astoria cannot hide her shock at the mention of those names. They are a curse, unspeakable to all since the Battle of Hogwarts. She has not heard those names in years.</p><p>Astoria responds with “Yes. I think so.” Draco presses his lips together and stares at her.</p><p>“Alright Greengrass. I believe you are to tell me of the Cruel King’s Folly.” Draco says, his tone falsely light.</p><p>Astoria nods, and begins.</p><p>              </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Draco</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Astoria nods, and begins.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“The cruel king grew bitter and angry with the world around him. He took great stock in the nobility of the land, believing those with noble blood ought to be respected and revered. However, over his lifetime, respect for blood had faded, and respect for other virtues grew. People started to value who one was, over the contents in their veins. However, the cruel king coveted the old ways, and longed for their return.”  </p><p>Draco nods. This sounds like his father, bitter, angry, and longing for the past. He remembers when he once longed for a past, he did not know, ignorant of the trouble it would bring.</p><p>Astoria frowns as though she dreads what comes next in the story. Draco knows she is close to the point he stopped her last time.</p><p>“The cruel king wasted no time indoctrinating the prince to his beliefs. However, the prince was a disappointment to him, for he learned that the knight’s scholar had bested the prince in his studies. He wanted his son to be above others in all things and was most displeased to learn that he was not.”</p><p>Draco closes his eyes. The word “indoctrinate” rings in his ears. He remembers the memory he saw in her mind, the swish in the air from his father’s cane, and the silver gleam of the snake head as it cracks across his cheek. He waits for Astoria to continue, dreading what is next.</p><p>Draco feels a cool, delicate grasp his own, and opens his eyes to find Astoria sitting on the floor at his feet, her legs tucked under her, clasping his hand, staring up at him. His gaze is full of eyes dark and lovely, not full of derision and mocking, but understanding. “We will get through the stories together, Draco.” she whispers. He says nothing but grips her hand tightly.</p><p>“However, the cruel king had other issues to worry about, for he had a dark secret. Though he was king, he served another, darker, force. He served the Devourer, a creature who cheats the very force of death itself, one who is more beast than man, one who will bring the end of all things beautiful and good.”</p><p>Draco knows who that sounds like.</p><p>“The cruel king whispered in the prince’s ear day and night, teaching him to revere the Devourer. For the prince had nothing to fear from the Devourer, so long as he had noble blood. The prince was told that the knight had bested the Devourer. But someday soon, the Devourer would rise again, bringing the prince power and glory beyond belief. The prince did not question the king, for he thought him the greatest man he had ever known.”</p><p>Draco can feel Astoria’s thumb swipe back and forth across the back of his hand. She keeps her voice soft and gentle, despite the heavy weight of what she is speaking. He hates the way he clings to the lull of her voice and the way he clutches her hand like a lifeline. He wants to be strong; he wants to take the stories head on. He cannot. They are too painful.</p><p>“Before the Devourer’s defeat, he had given the cruel king a piece of his very soul, broken by magic, and commanded that he keep it safe for all his days. The prince would do well to remember magic that can break the soul. As the years passed, the cruel king began to doubt the return of the Devourer. Others in the land soon began to suspect the cruel king of dark dealings. And so, they began to search the castle for malevolent objects. Fearful of being found in possession of the dark object, the cruel king devised a clever ploy.”</p><p>Draco listens intently, trying his best to commit every word to memory.</p><p>“The cruel king found a naïve young girl, the squire’s kin, and slipped the Devourer’s soul into the girl’s possession, for it was disguised as an ordinary object. The cruel king could in this way, get rid of the incriminating object as well as unleash horror on those who inhabited the land, but possessed no noble blood.”</p><p>The story takes shape in Draco’s mind, and he knows the rest.</p><p>“The cruel king sat by while the girl used the object to unleash a terrifying beast. It soon attacked children one by one, and the king smiled, for he thought himself ridding the land of a plague. One day, however, the beast attacked the knight’s scholar. The knight was devastated, and when he found out the beast had taken the squire’s kin into it’s layer, he decided to act. The knight was able to defeat the beast, saving the land once more from the Devourer’s soul and the frightening beast. The prince would do well to remember the knight’s method in defeating the soul and beast. The poison of the beast makes for a demolished soul.”</p><p>Astoria squeezes his hand, signaling that she is finished. Draco finds her eyes again, and he tugs her to her feet as he stands. She places a hand on his cheek, and he can feel her searching his eyes. He doesn’t know what she is looking for.</p><p>“How am I supposed to know what’s important Astoria?” Draco asked, hating how lost his own voice sounded.</p><p>Astoria smiled and said, “That, I figured out. If the story ever says “The prince would do well to remember” then what comes after is the crucial points of the message.”</p><p>Draco frowns and says “Okay. So, we’ve got magic that separates the soul and a beast’s poison will demolish the soul. And you have no idea what that means?”</p><p>               Astoria shakes her head. “No. I wish I could help you Draco, but this is something you are going to have to discern for yourself.”</p><p>               Draco feels hopeless. How can he possibly figure out what two lines in a story mean? What if he can’t? He is afraid and he hates it. He hates that he is <em>always </em>afraid. No matter where he runs, no matter what he does, the fear is there, clawing at him, a part of him.</p><p>               Astoria releases him from her hold and her lets go of her. In that moment, he realizes how alone he truly is.</p><p>               Astoria digs through the bag of food, grabs a chocolate frog, and she returns to his side, placing it in his hand. She whispers to him, “All the stories have bits of truth buried in them. You know what this story is about. Start there.”</p><p>               Draco sighs and sits back down in the chair heavily, letting his head sink into his hands. He sits like that a few moments, before Astoria says, “I think I’m going to have a bath. Do you mind?”</p><p>               Draco looks at her, and he notices, that yet again, she is blushing. She does it often, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t appreciate the way her eyes skipped to the floor, before looking at him again, and the way heat rises to her cheeks, giving her a charming flush. It does not escape his notice that he is a man in a room alone with a woman. A woman he knew, from digging in her mind, found him attractive. Draco delights in his effect on her, a simple glance causing color to rise in her cheeks.</p><p>               Draco reminds himself that the situation in far from appropriate, far from fair to her, and looks away, feeling guilty for his thoughts about her. “You don’t have to ask.” Is all he says, and he hopes she misses the way his voice catches in his throat.</p><p>               Astoria picks up the robes and the bag of supplies and exits into the washroom. He can hear shuffling and then the water starts running. He unwraps the chocolate frog, using it to distract him from the fact that Astoria is bathing in the very next room.</p><p>               He is going to have to ask her about Nott. He doesn’t want to drudge up bad memories for her, but he needs to know if the situation is serious enough for Nott to investigate further into Astoria’s death.</p><p>               He leans his head back and takes a bite of the chocolate frog. What the bloody fuck does “Poison of the beast makes for a demolished soul mean?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Astoria</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Astoria looks at herself in the mirror. Her hair is less dirty than she thought it would be, which she is grateful for. Her cheeks are still very pink, and she curses the way they betray her.</p><p>Astoria is woefully inexperienced with men, and incredibly shy around them. Whenever one would come up to her at one of Daphne’s parties, she would stutter and stumble, turn red, and be unable to meet their gaze for more than a few seconds at a time.</p><p>Astoria has done better with Draco than she would have done with someone else. However, she thought she was about to die, and there is no sense in being embarrassed if you are moments from death. Now that it is becoming quite clear her death is not imminent, she is reverting to some of her old ways, much to her displeasure.</p><p>Astoria undresses and turns the water on, sticking her hand under the stream, waiting for it to get warm. The water at a tolerable level, she slips in, and sinks into the water. She reaches for the shampoo and notices it is a very expensive bottle. She sniffs it, getting notes of jasmine and blue violets. At home she would have used vanilla, but she likes this scent better. She pours some into her hand and begins to work it into her hair.</p><p>She is shocked at her boldness today. She was not in a habit of touching men she hardly knew, but he looked so beautifully wretched, with his eyes screwed shut, recoiling at the painful memory she was retelling. She had felt so awful and so intrusive. These were private thoughts, private matters, and here she was, in the middle of Draco and his godfather, drudging up difficult thoughts for him to puzzle through alone.</p><p>She cannot help being drawn to him. Perhaps it is her nature. She has always found beauty in the broken, and she can see the haunted, tortured, look in his eyes, filling her with a desire to help. Her father used to remark on what he called her blind optimism. Astoria could not help her idealist nature. She saw all that people could be.</p><p>She hasn’t heard him leave yet, and she supposes he has more to say. She doesn’t want to rush through her bath, but she is curious as to what he is still doing here. She doesn’t have a towel, so she uses her old clothes to pat dry, before changing into the robes. She brushes her teeth near the sink, combs through her wet hair with her fingers, and then exits the washroom.</p><p>Draco looks up at here from his chair and points his wand at her. Astoria’s heart stops, but he murmurs a spell to dry her hair, and she lets out a breath. Draco must have noticed her fear because he says “Relax Greengrass. I’m drying your hair, not killing you. Just didn’t want you to catch a cold.” He mumbles that last bit rather disgruntledly, and Astoria fights a laugh.</p><p>“Thank you. I’m surprised you haven’t left yet.” Astoria remarks.</p><p>“Yeah. I have something I want to talk to you about.” Draco says.</p><p>Astoria’s interest peaks as she sits down, and she says, “Fire away.”</p><p>“Nott dropped in to see me last night. He wanted to know if I had killed you.” Draco says. Astoria isn’t surprised. She knew Daphne was likely to send him to beg for mercy.</p><p>“What did you say?” Astoria asks.</p><p>“I said I killed you. It was the safest bet.” Draco says.</p><p>Astoria understands he is right, but she can’t help the sadness she feels. Daphne thinks her dead. Astoria wonders if Daphne is sad or relieved. “That’s probably just as well.” she admits. She is glad Draco told her this. She had been wondering what her sister knew of her imprisonment.</p><p>Draco breaks the silence. “Nott turned you in to the Ministry. He called the search on your manor!” Draco blurts out, rather bluntly. Astoria looks at him in surprise. Her eyes widen.</p><p>“That’s quite the accusation. Nott and I have our disagreements, but nothing worth calling a raid on my home. Are you sure?” Astoria asks.</p><p>“Pretty sure, yeah. Greengrass, he sounded crazy. It was more than just a disagreement. He hated you.” Draco says.</p><p>Astoria considers this thoughtfully. “Do you have any idea why?” Draco asks her, gently.</p><p>“He was never fond of me, but it didn’t bother me. I may not have had the same zeal for the dark arts, and I wasn’t crazy about my sister marrying an avid death eater, but he seemed to love my sister. It’s not like Daphne was listening to my council on it either. I think he knew I didn’t like him and it bothered him.”  Astoria says all of this nonchalantly, but she feels sick to her stomach.</p><p>“You didn’t want Daphne to marry him?” Draco asks.</p><p>“No. Daphne was marrying him because he was rich. As you know, I’m sick. Daphne wanted more money to search for a cure, as my father was only allotting so much. It wasn’t out of spite; my father just didn’t want to throw money away on pipe dreams.  He knew it was hopeless. There is no cure for what I have. Daphne didn’t want to give up, and so when my father stopped spending money on all the expensive Healers, she turned to Nott. I always felt guilty that she was marrying him just because of me. I begged her not to do it, but she wouldn’t listen.”</p><p>Draco nods and says “Look, It’s none of my business. I’m only concerned about Nott. If he does any digging, any at all, we are finished.”</p><p>Astoria smiles sadly and says “No, I understand your concern. It honestly feels good to talk about it. I really can’t with anyone else.”</p><p>“And you’re sure he wouldn’t do turn you in?” Draco asks.</p><p>“I’m sure. He just didn’t have the motive.” Astoria assures.</p><p>“What about Rowle? Heard Nott was pretty upset about that.” Draco mentions.</p><p>Astoria stiffens, a shudder running through her body. “How do you even know about that?” Astoria snaps.</p><p>“I ran into Pansy today. She told me Daphne was upset at Nott for trying to arrange you and Rowle together.” Draco prods.</p><p>“Sorry, but I don’t see how it’s any of your business.” Astoria hisses, taking a step back from Draco. Draco gets up from the chair and narrows his eyes at her.</p><p>“Listen Greengrass. I’m putting my life on the line for you! Nott’s a risk, and if he has it out for you, I need to know!” Draco shouts.</p><p>“I already told you. Nott didn’t have anything to do with it!” Astoria shouts back. Draco narrows his eyes and takes a step forward. Astoria responds by taking another step back, and soon he has her backed up against a wall.</p><p>“Oh, please Greengrass. He all but admitted it at my house last night!” Draco yells.</p><p>“Even if that’s true, I don’t see what this has to do with Rowle!” Astoria spits.</p><p>“I need you to tell me if he would be angry enough about it to want to kill you. What don’t you get?” Draco snarls.</p><p>“Fine! Nott tried to arrange my marriage to Rowle, a deatheater twice my age, because he couldn’t find anyone else! No one else wanted to have <em>poor</em>, <em>little</em> Astoria Greengrass. She’s just so <em>sickly,</em> and so <em>inconvenient</em>.” Astoria spits venomously.</p><p>“I don’t bloody care about the extra drama! Just tell me, just answer <em>why</em>. Why would Nott care so much if you're married? Is that not odd to you?” Draco rants.</p><p>“I don’t know! He just got angry after my father died! What, are you going to ask about that to?” Astoria shrieks.</p><p>“I already know your father killed himself, Greengrass.” Draco sneers.</p><p>“He didn’t kill himself!” Astoria shouts, pushing against his chest.</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Draco</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He hears her shout “He didn’t kill himself!”</p><p>Ah, there it is. That’s why. Now Draco knows the reason behind Nott’s ferocious attempts to get rid of Greengrass. Her hands push on his chest in anger, but he hardly feels it.</p><p>“Calm down.” He barks. Astoria shoots him a look, her dark eyes shining with fresh tears, anger dancing like flames in her eyes. She does calm down, but the look she gives him is all the more frightening. He sees it on most women in their world. He has noticed that Greengrass always has expressive eyes, and he thought her unable to put the mask up that so many he knew favored. Now, he realizes it was a foolish thought, as her gaze is filled with cool, detachment. He fears that far more than her anger.</p><p>“Did you tell anyone you thought your father’s death wasn’t a suicide?” Draco asks, his voice low.</p><p>“Yes, I told anyone who would listen. Not that it did much good anyway. Nobody listened.” Astoria says bitterly.</p><p>“Think, Greengrass! Nott isn’t so fond of you, but he tolerates you, suffers your existence. All until you start telling everyone about your father’s death.” Draco hisses, his hands on her shoulders, gripping like a vice.</p><p>Recognition and fear dawn on Astoria’s face. She shakes her head. “No. Draco that’s ridiculous—”</p><p>“Greengrass! He was trying to get rid of you, trying to shut you up! When Rowle didn’t work out, he had to resort to other methods!” Draco snaps.</p><p>Her eyes are filled with fear, disbelief, and revulsion. Her hands go up, and she clings to him desperately. “Draco, you have to tell Daphne. She can’t stay married to him. He’s obviously dangerous. Please!” she begs.</p><p>Draco closes his eyes. “Greengrass. Nott obviously had something to do with your father’s death, and he doesn’t want anyone to know. I may have assuaged his suspicions for now, but how long until he stats to wonder? How long until he feels the need to double check? It will be a miracle if he hasn’t done it already.” Draco rants.</p><p>Astoria is looking up at him now, her eyes frantic. “I know! That’s exactly why you have to tell her! If she gets suspicious, if she begins to suspect Nott of something, what do you think he will do to her?”</p><p>Draco sighs and says “Okay. I’ll tell her. I think I can hold Nott off for a while.”</p><p>“Don’t tell her I’m alive. I don’t want her to take any risks.” Draco takes a deep breath and now that the heat of the moment is over, he feels guilty for yelling at her. He said a lot of cruel remarks and he certainly didn’t handle the situation well. He had been desperate to get the information as well as afraid of the consequences if he didn’t.  A part of him had also felt entitled to the information she had on Nott, seeing as he was taking such a big risk for her. He hates that part of himself.</p><p><em>She</em> had always told him that he didn’t think how the words he said would affect people. <em>She </em>said that when he was scared, angry, or insecure, he lashed out.</p><p>He can picture her now, with wild, straggling, dirty-blonde hair, down to her waist, her piercing blue eyes watching her. She had sat in the corner of his cellar, arms wrapped around her knees, and they had been playing chess through the bars of her prison. His mother’s pieces worked surprisingly well for her. They had been arguing about something stupid. Rather he had been arguing, and her simply discussing. That’s usually how it went. Him, spewing every insult in the book, and her, refusing to take the bait. He really doesn’t remember what the argument was about. He does remember her blue eyes, blinking slowly at him, and her tinkling voice saying, “You’re doing it again.”</p><p>“I’m doing what again?! he snapped.</p><p>“Projecting.” she had said calmly. She always refused to scream back at him, and that infuriated him.</p><p>“Shut up! If you weren’t batshit crazy then—” Draco had started.</p><p>“You’re acting like a child. Stop it.” she said, louder this time, enough to cut through his insult, but he couldn’t quite call it yelling.</p><p>He had opened his mouth to say something else, and before he could get a word out, she continued, back to her calm, serene tone.</p><p>“You’ve just said a lot of very hurtful things. Did you mean them?” she asked, sounding incredibly unbothered about the whole situation. How could this not bother her, when he was so riled up?</p><p>“Yes.” he sneered.</p><p>“Draco.” she warned, almost playfully.</p><p>“No.” he mumbled, crossing his arms.</p><p>“Do you regret saying them?” she asked patiently.</p><p>“I suppose.” he drawls sarcastically.</p><p>She didn’t say anything. A dreamy expression marked her visage, and he knows she will continue to stay silent until he tells the truth.</p><p>“Fine. Yes. I regret saying them.” he admitted, albeit not happily. She didn’t seem to mind.</p><p>“Then apologize.” she declares, as if it is the easiest, most natural thing in the world.</p><p>“Sorry.”  he said sourly.</p><p>“That’s a terrible apology.” she stated, as though describing the weather.</p><p>“Well, don’t tell me to apologize, if you aren’t going to appreciate it.” Draco snapped, and he threw his arms up in frustration.</p><p>“A good apology has three elements.” she began, sounding a bit like Professor Flitwick when he was about to start a lesson.</p><p>“Merlin!” groaned Draco loudly.</p><p>“Are you finished? Or do you require more time for dramatics?” she asked, her tone now assuming the persona of a waitress, asking if he was ready for her to take his plate. Draco said nothing and gestured for her to continue.</p><p>“A good apology has three elements. First, you must let the person you tell them you are sorry. That step, you’ve got down fairly well. I would give you an Acceptable. It honestly could use some emotion in the tone as well as what you are sorry for.” She says all this, somehow, without sounding didactic. “Why don’t you try step one?” she asked.</p><p>“This is ridiculous.” he sneered.</p><p>She raised her eyebrows and waited.</p><p>“Fine. I’m sorry you got offended.” Draco snarked.</p><p>“That’s getting into step two. You have to make it about what you did, not what the other person did, or how the other person feels. You have to admit fault and accept responsibility. Give it a go.”</p><p>Draco remembers that he thought it was the stupidest thing in the world. He thought that she was messing with him, mocking him, enjoying making him grovel. However, when he looked into her eyes, he saw that it wasn’t like that at all. It was the look a friend gives when they are encouraging you through a difficult task, or when they are trying to help you with that Arithmancy problem you just don’t get. A look of fond exasperation. A look he had only seen in passing, never experiencing it for himself.</p><p>“I’m sorry that I insulted you. It was my fault and I take full responsibility.” Draco said. It sounds foreign on his tongue, and he stumbles over the words. It sounds rehearsed and not all together sincere. She still smiles like it’s the best thing in the world.</p><p>“Now for the last step.” she said.</p><p>“Ugh. There’s more?” This time he was joking. It lacked his usual bite.</p><p> “Yes. You ask what you can do to make it right.” she explained evenly.</p><p>“What can I do to make it right?” Draco asked.</p><p>“I would like a piece of parchment and a quill, if you please. Something to bear down on as well.” she asked, giving him a slow, dreamy smile.</p><p>He had gotten to his feet, and fetched her what she had wanted, half-heartedly grumbling about it. When he returned, she took the supplies with a grateful smile. She had begun to scratch the quill across the page, and he knew she must be drawing. She had mentioned she missed that. He tried to crane his neck to see what she was drawing, but she had angled it away from him.</p><p>“There is something else you should know about apologies.” she said.</p><p>“What’s that?”</p><p>“It’s up to the person whom you’ve wronged to accept it. Forgiveness is never guarantied, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t make an effort.” she says.</p><p>“Oh.” Draco was uncomfortable. That hardly seemed fair.</p><p>“Don’t worry though. I accept your apology.”</p><p>Draco smiled, and he realized he hadn’t in a long time. She stood up and passed him the parchment through the bars. It had been a sketch of him, remarkably good. His expression wasn’t quite right. He had never looked that happy, and he knew he didn’t now. The edges had been covered in curly, looping writing, and he made out the word friend, written over and over again. He thought, though he had only known her for two weeks, that she was the best friend he ever had. He looked up at her, an incredulous expression on his face.</p><p>“You can be that happy Draco.” she had said. He is still waiting for it to be true.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Astoria</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Draco is staring at a spot above her head, zoned out. She had asked him not to tell Daphne she was alive, and he simply, checked out. His hands, which had held onto her firmly, though not painfully, were now loosely resting on her shoulders. She is embarrassed. She said a lot of stuff she hadn’t wanted to, and her cheeks burn at the thought of her outburst about Rowle. She had revealed her deepest fear to Draco, in a stupid, pathetic, whiny outburst. Shame burns on her cheeks. She wishes he would say something.</p><p>His expression looks incredibly forlorn. She wants to call him out of his thoughts, but she doesn’t want him to yell at her again. She hates yelling. She really hates it. “Draco.” She murmurs, as soft as she can. His eyes snap back to her, and he releases her suddenly. He doesn’t back away, though, and her back is still pressed against the wall.</p><p>Now that her fear and anger have dissipated, she notices the lack of space between them, and looks down hurriedly. Draco clears his throat and Astoria forces herself to look at him. He looks as though he is extremely nervous and unsure about something, as though he is about to say something he really doesn’t want to. He looks like he is steeling himself, and then he opens his mouth.</p><p>“I’m sorry I asked personal questions, yelled at you, and spoke unkindly. It was my fault and I accept full responsibility. What can I do to make it right?” Draco sounds incredibly mechanical, and though the words of the apology itself are incredibly pompous, he recites it as if he is reading off a grocery list. She can hardly help the laugh that bubbles up in her chest, and it comes out in a long, loud, exclamation.</p><p>Draco narrows his eyes at her and asks “What is so <em>funny</em>?” Astoria looks up at him, and the incredibly offended expression almost makes her laugh again.</p><p>“I just didn’t expect such a good apology from Draco Malfoy.” she says, sarcastically. He looks away and she realizes, with a sudden burst of remorse, that the apology hadn’t been an easy thing for him to do. She can tell from the look on his face, that apologizing isn’t something that comes naturally to him. The fact that he tried is endearing to her. The Draco she knew never apologized. But, the one standing in front of her had given it a good try, and if she was honest with herself, it hadn’t been bad.</p><p>It was completely against her nature to be so cruel. She is shocked that she acted that way, and if she was honest with herself, it had been to distract herself from her own embarrassment. It seemed the stress of this situation had brought out the worst in her.</p><p>“It seems I have an apology to make as well.” Draco looks at her, cautiously.</p><p>“I’m sorry for laughing at your apology. It was unkind. And, just to be clear, I did not laugh because I actually thought it was that bad of an apology. More so, I just didn’t expect it, and if I’m honest, I was pleased with the effort.” Draco raises his eyebrows in surprise, and Astoria wonders if he received many apologies.</p><p>She shuffles her feet and looks down, clearly dreading what she is going to say next. “I’m sorry for the outburst about Rowle. I got needlessly upset. I understand why you have to know his motive and I—”</p><p>“Don’t apologize for that.” Draco says, an almost pleading tone in his voice.</p><p>“Well, I’m sorry anyway. It’s a touchy subject for me.” Astoria whispers. Draco looks like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. He waits a few moments before speaking.</p><p>“It’s over. Now that I know what is going on with Nott I can warn Daphne.” Draco says.</p><p>Astoria nods, and desperate to lighten the mood, jokes “We may have to work on the apologies though. Say it with feeling next time.” Draco gives a small laugh but looks uncomfortable. Perhaps it was still too sore a subject to be made light of.</p><p>Draco falls silent, and so does Astoria. They stare at each other for a long while. Draco whispers, so softly Astoria can barely hear it. “My father says Malfoy’s don’t apologize.” He offers it to her, an explanation, and an excuse. It’s also a confession, and the closest he has come to explaining his past to her. For some reason she yearns to know more, to peel back the layers, and knock down the walls. She always did love complicated souls.</p><p>The room is silent, and she can hear his heart beating faster. That was not an easy thing for him to say either. She has always been impressed by effort rather than success, and so, she reaches for his hand, even though it makes her nervous to do so. His eyes close at her touch and she doesn’t miss the way he leans forward slightly.</p><p>“I guess you’ve proved him wrong.” Astoria says, surety in her voice. Draco’s eyes snap open, and they remind her of storm clouds, beautiful, terrifying, and constantly conflicted, always at war. He looks lost and alone, and she wants to be there for him. It’s simply her nature. She has always wanted to help. She has always watched him, and wished she could something, anything, to aid him. She has always felt alone too, and is this moment, she doesn’t want either of them to feel like that anymore.</p><p>“We can practice. I could use some work to.” Astoria admits. His expression changes then, storm clouds to quicksilver, a mischievous glint in his eye. His smirk spreads across his face long and slow, and Astoria can’t help the way her races.</p><p>“You definitely could. You didn’t even include all the steps.” Draco teases.</p><p>“What steps?” Astoria asks, trying to keep her voice even.</p><p>“Every apology has three steps.”</p><p>“Oh? Which did I forget?” Astoria asks playfully.</p><p>“You didn’t accept full fault and responsibility for your actions.” Draco challenges.</p><p>“Okay. I accept full and total responsibility for my actions.” Astoria laughs.</p><p>“Close. Now, you must ask what you can do to make it up to me.” Draco says, false seriousness in his voice.</p><p>Astoria notices that she has moved a little closer. “What can I do to make it up to you?” she asks, breathless from the proximity.</p><p>Draco must notice how close she is to, because he swallows hard, and says nothing. Quicksilver eyes become smoke, burning with low heat. She can feel the sudden tension and watches his gaze closely. It is a expression she doesn’t recognize, but it makes her breath quicken and heart feel like it might burst. Noticing his lack of response, she repeats the question. “What can I do to make it up to you, Draco?”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Draco</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Astoria is standing so close to him, and yet, he wants to pull he closer. He can smell the jasmine and violet soap, and it reminds him of a summer night. She is looking up at him, her expression showing that she wants something, but that she didn’t know quite what that something was. He could show her.</p><p>               She repeats the question again, saying “What can I do to make it up to you, Draco?” she adds his name, the question posed in a soft, teasing tone. She really shouldn’t have said his name, and she really should not be standing so close. She should not be looking up at him with eyes so dark and lovely, and her hair should not be so full and dark and practically begging to have his fingers tangled in it.  </p><p>               He wants to tell her to kiss him. He wants to feel her lips on his, and he wants a kiss to actually <em>mean</em> something for once. No one has been this kind to him in a long time, and like the pathetic mess he knows he is, he has fallen for it, aching for a kind word, a soft touch.</p><p>               He can’t tell her to kiss him. He can’t ask that of her. He is grateful that she understands that he doesn’t want to kill her. But that doesn’t mean she is not aware of the task, of the inevitability. She might be only kissing him to save herself. She may feel like she would have to because she fears him. She is still a Death Eater’s prisoner. He, however much he may wish it isn’t true, is a Death Eater. And so, because he can’t tell her to kiss him he says:</p><p>               “Tell me a secret.”</p><p>               He watches Astoria’s eyes widen and mirth fill them. She throws her head back and laughs. “A secret? That hardly seems fair.” Draco tries his best to give her his signature smirk, he can hardly manage it.</p><p>               “Who said anything about fair?” he teases.</p><p>               “Alright. What sort of secret?” Astoria asks.</p><p>               Draco thinks for a moment. He doesn’t know why he asked the question, but he feels intrigued at what her answer could be. “Tell me something no one else knows.” he asks. He knows you don’t tell secrets to someone you’ve only known for a few days, but with all that’s happened between them, he feels that their circumstances are somehow different.</p><p>               He watches her face fade from playful to uncertain. Her eyes fill with mistrust and for a moment he worries he has made a mistake. However, she seems to gather herself, and though she looks nervous she meets his eyes defiantly and says “I love muggle literature.”</p><p>               The air is charged and the tension changes course, turning into something darker, thicker, and all together uncomfortable.</p><p>               “I lied to Lestrange. I don’t find the books funny at all. I find them beautiful.” Draco lets go of her hand and takes a step back. She is saying dangerous things.</p><p>               “I didn’t just read the two I was caught with. I’ve read a hundred, if not more.” Astoria says, her voice dangerous and lulling, and his brain is telling him to turn and run, leave her behind, but he can’t quite make himself do it.</p><p>               “Why?” he breathes.</p><p>               “It started as curiosity. Then, I figured out they were lying to us. The muggles aren’t filthy. They aren’t stupid and they aren’t powerless. They are<em> intriguing</em> and <em>interesting.</em> They are <em>brilliant </em>and damnit, Draco! Everything they ever told us is a lie!” Her voice has risen several octaves, and yet, it wasn’t yelling.</p><p>               Her hair is wild, and her hands are gesturing. Her eyes are passionate, and Draco realizes she means it. She means every word. He knows that what she is saying is the truth. Perhaps he has always known it. That terrifies him. She speaks into existence doubts he has had for years, and he is so tired of facing them.</p><p>               On his travels, he saw the muggles, in all their glory. He saw all the things they built, and he had known then, that he had spent almost his entire life working to protect a lie. He can’t face that and so he turns away from her and starts to the door.</p><p>               His hand is on the doorknob, and he hears her call, “Draco!” He turns to look at her, and finds her face etched with hurt at his rejection. She has told him one of her most dangerous secrets, and he is about to walk. He knows its wrong, but for tonight he is just so <em>done. </em></p><p>“Do you want to know another secret?” she whispers so faintly. He doesn’t say anything. He just stares at her, allowing her to continue.</p><p>               “I wanted to kiss you.” she all but whispers. Draco stiffens. There she is, staring at him with an expression so open and honest.</p><p>               Before he can stop himself, he is striding across the room, long legs carrying him there in barely two steps. He takes her face in his hands and brings her lips to his. It takes her moment to get over the surprise, but soon she is moving her mouth against his, perhaps a little unsurely. He makes to pull away, but her hands are wrapped in his shirt and she pulls him closer. He deepens the kiss and she sighs gently into him. He slides his hands up the sides of her cheeks and into her hair, and she unfurls her hands on his chest, curiously sliding them up to his shoulder, and then back to where his hips were.</p><p>               He pulls back suddenly and she looks at him with dark eyes, through hooded lashes, and he drops his hands to his side limply. He stares at her, a long time, before she says “Tell me a secret.”</p><p>               His heart stutters and he closes his eyes, taking another small step back. He doesn’t want to say it, doesn’t want to admit the truth. He will never know what compels him to say “I know it’s a lie. I’ve always known. I just didn’t want to believe it.” Astoria sighs and says:</p><p>               “No one wants to admit they fought for the wrong side. No one wants to face that they let evil into the door, invited it in for a drink. And so, we all just pretend nothing is wrong. We all just pretend that we didn’t make the biggest mistake of our lives. We pretend that <em>He</em> isn’t a mistake. Well I’m tired of pretending.” She is pleading with him to understand. He does. He just isn’t sure he can face his mistakes. When everything he fought for is wrong, what sort of person does that make him?</p><p>               “I’m not tired of pretending. Not yet.” he says softly. This time, he really does leave.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Astoria</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For a Slytherin, Astoria had acted extremely reckless. Astoria was never the type to kiss boys in school. She had only been kissed twice, in her entire life, and certainly not like that.  <em>That</em> must have been what Daphne always went on about.</p><p>               If she had to guess it was past midnight by now, but she certainly isn’t tired.  There is no way she is going to be able to fall asleep now.</p><p>               She couldn’t help the hope that was bursting in her chest. Draco felt the same way she did about their world. Well, perhaps not the exact same, but it was the closest someone had been to sharing her views in a long time. She didn’t feel quite so alone anymore.</p><p>               Astoria could feel guilt crawling it’s way into her stomach. She was nothing if not self-aware. At one time she had thought herself brave for reading muggle literature. She soon realized just how silly that idea was. People had fought, died, and sacrificed to fight for what was right. They had paid dearly, and lost. Here she had been, doing a silly, silent rebellion, in the comfort of her huge manor. She supposed karma had gotten to her now.</p><p>               She makes her way to the bed and flops down rather ungracefully. The story she had told today, hadn’t made a lot of sense to her. She hoped Draco would be able to puzzle it out. The stories weren’t supposed to make sense to her, but it would make her feel more useful.</p><p>               She had only ever known of one time a beast had gotten loose around children. That had been at Hogwarts during her sister’s second year. She had tried to ask Daphne, but her sister wouldn’t speak of it. Perhaps she had been worried about scaring her off from Hogwarts.</p><p>               As hard as she had thought it would be, Astoria found herself drifting of to sleep. Her last thought was that at least she got to have a good snog before she died.</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Draco</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Draco always knew he was selfish, but he had just taken himself to new heights. Well, actually, come to think of it, he most definitely had been equally selfish, if not more, on several other occasions. That did nothing to make this situation any better.</p><p>She had wanted to kiss him. What was wrong with her? What was wrong with him? It was his own fault really. He had known she would look good in those robes he bought at Twilfitt and Tattings. He had purposefully picked out soap he thought smelled good. He should have picked something unscented.</p><p>He was not ignorant of the fact she had wanted to kiss him, but that didn’t mean he had to walk over there and do it.  He just hadn’t been able to resist her. He couldn’t withstand her touch, her sighs, and the way she had practically <em>melted</em> into him when his hands had slipped into her hair.</p><p>He’d been weak. He couldn’t afford to do it again. One thing he knows for sure, he couldn’t just kill her now. He wouldn’t have been able to do it before, and he most definitely would not be able to do it now. He’d figure out something. Perhaps there was another place he could hide her.</p><p>He is walking past the guards at the entrance when one said “Malfoy! Did you get the information you need?” Draco stopped and turned around.</p><p>“No. She is close to cracking. I can feel it. Who knew she’d be so stubborn?” Draco laughed, hoping it didn’t sound as uneasy as he felt.</p><p>“We can always help you out.” another guard offered, almost like he was offering to pick up something to drink on the way to a dinner party.</p><p>“No!” Draco said sharply. “You don’t have the clearance level for the information she has. It’s been passed on to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and they’ve authorized me to take care of it. You are not to step foot in that room, understand?”</p><p>The guards shared a rather offended look. Draco knows he’ll have to try to smooth things over. “Look gentlemen. I’d appreciate the help, really. I just don’t want to get you all in trouble. You know how my Aunt can be when things aren’t done the way she wants.”</p><p>Just like that, the guards are happy they’ve been recognized, and too afraid of his aunt to contradict him. He does pretend that he left something in the room though, and stands outside of Greengrass’s room, performing enchantments on the door. The guards wouldn’t be able to enter now if they wanted to. <br/>               On his way back out, after receiving friendly waves from the guards, he apparates home. It’s late, and he hopes his parents are in bed. He makes his way to his room and finds a house elf has left him some dinner on a plate. He hadn’t been very hungry since his return home, but tonight he finds his appetite has returned.</p><p>After he’s done, he notices a letter sitting on his desk. He walks over and opens it.</p><p>
  <em>Dear Ferret,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I hope this letter find you in horrible health. We are having a dinner party tomorrow, and my darling husband has requested your loathsome presence. It will be a few friends, and some rather unfortunate wastes of oxygen. Want to take a guess which category you’ll fall into? </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I assume topics of conversation will include the murder of my sister, and the all the reasons I should do the exact same to you. My mother said just last week what a shame it was she hadn’t seen you in a while. I’m sure she simply cannot wait to look in the eyes of her daughter’s slayer. It will be an absolute displeasure to have your company. Please do not R.S.V.P, and don’t forget to tell us what time you will most definitely not be coming. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The sincerest letter I’ve ever written,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Daphne Nott. </em>
</p><p>Bloody fucking splendid. Well, here was his opportunity to talk to Daphne. It sounded as if she would be <em>thrilled</em> to have him there.</p><p>
  <em>Dear Daphne,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I’ll be there, 6:30. We need to talk. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sorry about Astoria,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Ferret</em>
</p><p>               Calling himself a ferret is a gesture of good will he normally wouldn’t extend.</p><p>               The clock reads half past one in the morning. He is planning on getting an early start to figure out that story, and so he heads to bed. He lays down with an annoyed huff. He knows exactly what he won’t be able to stop thinking about as he falls asleep. As he drifts off, he thinks he can smell her on his clothes. He should change. He doesn’t.</p><p>              </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Astoria</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Astoria can hear someone rattling the doorknob. She starts to a sitting position. She can hear a scream, a sound as if someone is thrown back, and a curse of pain. The air smells of burning flesh. She gets up and begins to creep towards the far wall. She makes toward the washroom. It isn’t much, but it’s another door whoever is outside will have to go through.</p><p>               “Bloody idiot. I could’ve told you Malfoy cursed the door. You ain’t getting in there.” a voice says. Astoria can hardly breathe. They know. They know that she is alive. This is it, and Draco is probably already dead. She opens the washroom door as softly as she can and slips inside.</p><p>               “I know, I know. Worth a shot though. Hey! Hey girl! You in there? Open the door.” another voice says. Astoria says nothing, biting her lip hard to keep from screaming.</p><p>               “Come on, love. One last kiss before Malfoy finishes you off?”</p><p>There is banging on the wall next to the door, and she can hear them call out to her for several minutes. The comments get more aggressive, the insinuations fouler. Perhaps Draco has turned her in. She shouldn’t have told him about the books. Maybe he turned on her.</p><p>No. He didn’t turn her in. He cursed the door, although she doesn’t know when, clearly with the intention of keeping others out.  This visit isn’t planned. Whoever these men were, they were under the impression she was supposed to be here, and that Draco would be killing her shortly. They must be some sort of guards.</p><p>They leave a few minutes later. Astoria stays slumped against the washroom wall, as far from the door as she can get. She doesn’t sleep at all that night.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Draco</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Draco is awake at half past six. After a quick shower, he heads straight for the library. Draco can only think of one time a dangerous beast was loose at Hogwarts, and that was his second year. Of course, third year too, if he counts the Hippogriff. Somehow, he didn’t think most people would.</p><p>               He moves through the shelves. The monster in second year had been a basilisk. “Poison of the beast” obviously meant basilisk venom. As for what is had to do with demolished souls he was at a loss. From Greengrass’s story, he gathered that somehow, that basilisk venom could destroy someone’s soul. In a physical sense? Or an emotional sense?</p><p>               That brought him to the other part he was supposed to remember. “Magic that could break the soul.” Where on earth is he supposed to find magic that could break one’s soul?</p><p>               Well, if he is going to find magic dark enough to break a soul, he is definitely in the right place. The Malfoy Library would almost certainly possess books on breaking a soul. However, book after book proved to be useless. There were books detailing the very worst of the Dark Arts, and yet, nothing on breaking souls.</p><p>               He wondered if another dark wizard had managed to accomplish such a feat. Perhaps looking through a book detailing the very worst of wizard kind would reveal someone who had done this sort of magic before. After several minutes, he came across a book <em>titled Dark Wizards and How They Achieved Greatness. </em>Definitely his father’s purchase. Skimming through, he came across a wizard called Herpo the Foul.</p><p>
  <em>Herpo the Foul is one of the greatest and successful masters of the Dark Arts in wizarding history. While the creator of many of the most coveted and useful dark spells, he also is the first to breed a Basilisk. What makes him most extraordinary is the ability to defy death itself. Many wizards have searched for the way to immortality, and Herpo the Foul is the closest any wizard has come to date.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Herpo creates an object called a Horcrux, the darkest form of soul magic one can hope to perform. </em>
</p><p>A Horcrux? Could that be the soul magic from the story?</p><p>Draco holds his wand and mutters “Accio Horcrux books.” <em>Secrets of the Darkest</em> Art flies from the shelves and he holds up a hand to catch it. Flipping through the pages, he discovers what he is looking for.</p><p>Draco fights the urge to slam the book closed in revulsion. If this book is to be believed, one could split their soul in two, if not more pieces. The soul fragments could be hidden in objects and if the wizard were ever killed, they could sustain themselves on the other soul fragments. As far as creating one, the wizard in question had to take an innocent life.</p><p>That meant the Dark Lord…. Draco stuffs the book back on the shelves. No. Death Eaters had almost a reverent view of the Dark Lord. They thought him a god, able to defy death for eternity. He wondered what they would do if they discovered it was just dark magic and had little to do with god like powers.</p><p>Draco feels a sick sort of relief spread through him. Horcruxes, although frightening, were better than what he feared was the truth. He believed that the Dark Lord was the greatest wizard to ever live, impossible to defeat, one who could defy death itself.</p><p>Snape knew about the Horcrux. How he, when no other of the Dark Lord’s followers knew, was able to figure it out, is beyond him. Snape had wanted him to know that basilisk venom destroys Horcruxes. But why? The Dark Lord had only given his father one item in the story. A journal. Potter had destroyed the journal. What more was he supposed to do about it?</p><p>Draco makes his way to what his father referred to as The Gallery. It is a vast room, full of display cases. Each case holds a frighteningly dark object. Draco used to play in there as a child, running from one side of the other, fascinated by all the dark secrets his father possessed. Now, as he steps in, the objects in the cases make his stomach turn.</p><p>Unsurprisingly, towards the back of the room there is slim black journal, decorated with a gaping hole in the middle, with the edges burnt and crinkled. Black blood stains the blank pages. Draco rests his hand on the glass.</p><p>There it is. Destroyed. Draco remembers how angry the Dark Lord had been about this journal. Draco hadn’t understood why, but now, it seemed his father’s irresponsibility had cost the Dark Lord a fragment of his soul. With that in mind, his father really had gotten off light.</p><p>So he figured out the story, but to what end? The journal had been destroyed, and there was nothing left to be done.</p><p>Draco stops by the kitchens to pick up some food and a bottle of water. He feels nervous about going to see Greengrass, but it isn’t as if he can put it off. He has Daphne’s dinner party tonight, and perhaps going to see her in the morning will help him keep his head straight.</p><p>Draco apparates to the house and walks through the gate. As he is passing the guards, nodding in greeting, he notices one has a burnt hand. He stops and the guard, noticing his line of sight, tries to shift the hand out of sight</p><p>Draco draws his wand and points it at the guard. “How’d you burn your hand?” Draco asks, an edge to his voice.</p><p>The guard stutters out an excuse, but Draco interrupts him with a stunning spell, shooting him back into a tree, his skull cracking against the wood.</p><p>“Funny. I thought I made it clear that no one was to go in that room.” Draco says coolly. His heart is beating fast. He feels sick. “Did you all go in? Decided to test if I was serious?” Draco asks shifting his wand between the remaining two guards. They look like they want to retaliate, but they wouldn’t dare strike a Death Eater, even if it’s just Malfoy.</p><p>“Relax. We didn’t get in. The door was enchanted.” a guard grumbles. Draco lowers his wand, unbelievably grateful he had gone back yesterday to cast the wards. Of course, they could be lying, fearful of retaliation from him. She could be hurt.</p><p>“Suppose you just want her all to yourself. That’s hardly fair.” the other guard complains, recovered from the stunning spell.</p><p>Draco’s wand is out and pointed at the guard, and he shouts “Engorgio Skullus.” The guards head swells and before long he falls to the ground from the weight of it.</p><p>“That’s right. So don’t go in that room, and don’t touch her.” Draco stuffs his wand in his robe and walks into the house. Once out of sight of the guards, he races up the stairs, and reaches Greengrass’s room in record time. He lowers the enchantments on the door, and bursts in. His eyes move around the bedroom, but no sign of her.</p><p>He hears a fearful gasp from the washroom and so he throws the door open. Greengrass looks scared, but otherwise alright. She is sitting against the far wall, hands wrapped around her knees. There are dark shadows under her eyes, and it appears that she hadn’t slept at all. He can hardly blame her.</p><p>She realizes it’s only him and she visibly relaxes.</p><p>“Are you alright? Did they get in?” Draco demands, crouching down and putting his hand on her shoulder. His eyes trace every inch of her, looking for injuries.</p><p>“I’m fine.” she says, her voice small.</p><p>He raises his eyebrows. “Did they get in?” he repeats urgently.</p><p>“No. Your wards held. But they tried. For a long time.” she says, voice shaking.</p><p>“Fuck.” Draco curses, standing, offering her his hand to help her up. She doesn’t take it.</p><p>“Greengrass. Come on. Let’s sit somewhere else than the floor.” Draco orders. She doesn’t move, just keeps staring straight ahead. “Greengrass.” he tries again, tone softer.</p><p>“Kill me.” she whispers.</p><p>Draco starts at the demand. “What?” he chokes out.</p><p>“Kill me. I’ll tell you all the stories today. Then, kill me.” Her voice is flat, emotionless.</p><p>“Greengrass. You aren’t making any sense.” Draco says, fear creeping into his voice. He sits down next to her, back sliding against the wall. He reaches for her, taking her hand. She doesn’t react, but she doesn’t push him away. “We had a deal. I won’t break it.” Draco insists.</p><p>She turns her head to face him.</p><p>“It has to be you. You have to kill me. If Death Eaters ever find out that I’m alive, they’ll kill me. And they won’t be nice about it. And what do you think they are going to do to you?” She won’t look at him. He has never seen someone talk about their own death so dispassionately.</p><p>“Don’t worry about me. I’ll take care of it.” he says.</p><p>“You have to do it. Please. I don’t want it to hurt. I just want you to do it.” She is looking at him now, and her eyes and shining with tears. She is clutching at his robes, begging him. Begging him to kill her.</p><p>“No.” he forces out, the words catching in his throat.</p><p>“Draco. Please.”</p><p>“No!” he shouts, leaping to his feet. He starts pacing back and forth.</p><p>“Draco—” she starts.</p><p>“Shut it! I’m thinking.” he snaps. She flinches at his tone, but closes her mouth.</p><p>He can’t kill her. He can’t. He’ll just have to move her some place else. She is right. These guards are angry at him now. She can’t stay here and neither can he.</p><p>“Get up Greengrass.” he orders. She just stares at him, confusion on her face. “We are leaving.” Draco clarifies.</p><p>Greengrass’s eyes widen. “Where on earth are we going to go?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Astoria</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Where on earth are we going to go?” Astoria whispers, eyes wide. She watches Draco as he extends a hand to her. She takes it, and he pulls her up.</p><p>               His expression is calculating, and she can tell he is scheming. She knows it can’t be easy to move her, or he would have done it all ready.</p><p>               “Draco. It would be easier to kill me. Even if you move me successfully, it is only a matter of time before they figure out I’m not dead. You can’t hide me forever. Let’s just end this now.” She pleads. He is still holding on to her hand and she pulls him to her, wrapping her arms around his middle. He stands stiff and awkward, but his hands go to hold her in place against him.</p><p>               “Whatever you have to do, I’ve already forgiven you for it.” she whispers, and at her words he jerks back and gives her a look of turmoil. He is so conflicted and so obviously horrified at the thought of ending her life. His hand cups her cheek and he seems to steel himself.</p><p>               Draco’s hold is loose, and he looks away from her. He pushes her away and grabs his wand. “No.” he says firmly. His wand is pointed at her, and the spells he is casting are difficult to discern. He always seems to cast spells quietly.</p><p>               “What are you doing?” Astoria asks nervously.</p><p>               “Glamour charms.” Draco replies evenly.</p><p>               Astoria looks toward the mirror and gasps. She looks horrifying. Her hair is lank and matted, and her eyes are scarily dull. Her skin is the palest she has ever seen it, and it’s covered in bruises, burns, cuts, scrapes, and other abrasions. She looks as if she has been beaten to death.</p><p>               Draco is no longer looking at her, an expression of disgust on his face. He is instead gathering her few belongings and stuffing them into a bag, which he slings over his shoulder. He grabs her, leading her to the bed, and shoving her in front of the mattress. Normally she might blush, but in the state she appears to be in, she thinks she is the furthest thing from his mind.</p><p>               “I’m going to stun you.”</p><p>               “What?” Astoria asks.</p><p>               “With the glamour charms and the stunning spell, you’ll appear dead. I’m going to drag you in front of the guards, tell them I’m disposing of your body, and then stash you somewhere.” Draco explains, with a tone of forced calm.</p><p>               “Draco, that will hardly—.” Whatever she might have said is cut off by a flash of red light, and she falls back onto the mattress, eyes glazing over.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Draco</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She looks dead. He can feel his stomach turn, and he thinks he might be sick. She looks worse than dead. It looks like he had her up here for hours, torturing her, playing with her. That’s how it’s supposed to look, he reminds himself. It doesn’t make him feel any better.</p><p>               He levitates her body and is careful not to bump it on anything on the way out the door. Down the stairs they go and then out the front door. One of the guards’ gasp. “Jesus Malfoy. And they said you’d gone soft.” Draco narrows his eyes at the guard.</p><p>               “Yes, well. Turns out she didn’t have any valuable information. Just trying to make a bid for her life. Pathetic, really.” Draco explains. He tries to keep his voice casual but it feels like he may be sick.</p><p>               “Right. I hear they’re bringing some half blood here tomorrow. So, it’s good you got it done today.” another guard says.</p><p>               He’s right. Draco had been lucky that Greengrass had been the only prisoner. That prison wasn’t meant to hold a lot of people. It was more house than cell anyway. But, now that more would be coming, it was good he was moving her someplace else.</p><p>               Draco nods a farewell to the guards and lowers Greengrass to the ground. He has an idea where he will take her. Spinner’s End, his godfather’s house, would have to do. He’d been dead for four years, and he hoped that would be enough to keep people from going near the house.</p><p>               Draco apparates to the front door. He is glad that he is still able to picture it. He really hadn’t seen it in years.</p><p>               He gets Greengrass through the door and deposits her on the dusty, moth-eaten couch. He removes the glamour charms and audibly sighs in relief. She looks normal again. Her cheeks have color, and the bruises are gone. Her hair is thick and shiny, and she no longer looks like she’s been through hell. “Rennervate” he says, and she opens her eyes slowly, and they widen as life returns to them.</p><p>               Her gaze sweeps around the room and confusion creeps into her expression. Her eyes settle on him and she smiles.</p><p>               “You stunned me.” she says, her words coming out slow and slightly slurred.</p><p>               “Apologies Greengrass.” he says with a smirk.</p><p>               “Did it work?” she asks.</p><p>               “Obviously. We’d be dead if it didn’t.” he drawls.</p><p>               Astoria laughs softly and sits up. “I’ll tell you the stories now.”</p><p>               “Just tell me one. I think I can only handle one a day.” It’s true. The stories are draining and full of difficult subjects and revelations he’d rather not deal with.</p><p>               “Okay. If you’re sure that’s what you want.”</p><p>               “I’m sure. What’s the story?” Draco sits down next to her and she looks at him.</p><p>               Greengrass closes her eyes, as though she is trying to collect herself. She looks exhausted, and for a moment he thinks to leave and let her rest.</p><p>               “ The Puppet King.” she announces. Draco starts from his thoughts.</p><p>               “What?” Draco asks, snapping from his study of her form.</p><p>               “The story. It’s called the Puppet King. Pay close attention.” she scolds.</p><p>               Draco frowns and crosses his arms. He’s about to retort when he notices her shoulders sag, and she seems to slump forward. Perhaps he stunned her to hard. His hand reaches out to catch her.</p><p>               “Greengrass.” he murmurs. Her gaze is fixed on the floor, as though she is trying very hard not to lose focus.</p><p>               “I’m fine. I just need to lay down.” she assures, and she lowers herself clumsily to lay across the couch. Her head ends up in his lap, and when she feels her head touch his thighs, she moves to readjust. Draco pushes her back down.</p><p>               “It’s fine. Just lay down.” Draco says. He smirks at the color that begins to tinge her cheeks, and she looks up at him shyly. Draco is able to appreciate how she looks right now with clear skin, shining eyes, and color in her cheeks. It’s the opposite of what she looked like earlier that day. To see her look beaten and dead, with him the supposed cause, had almost been too much to handle.</p><p>               Greengrass sighs and says “The Puppet King.” Draco steels himself.</p><p>               “The cruel king had at one time pledged unwavering loyalty to the Devourer. However, when the brave knight was able to defeat the Devourer, the Devourer had disappeared, not to be seen again for quite some time.”</p><p>               Draco thought that this sounded very similar to the beginning of the last story.</p><p>               “However, the longer the Devourer stayed hidden, the more the cruel king forgot his loyalty. The cruel king enjoyed a life of status and wealth, and with the Devourer gone, he answered to no one.”</p><p>               Draco has picked up a lock of dark hair and is twirling it between his fingers. Greengrass stops talking in surprise, but quickly resumes.</p><p>“One day however, the brave knight was competing in a tournament, and all the land had shown up to watch. During the tournament, the Devourer rose again from the very ashes of death and sought to battle the knight. The knight was able to escape the Devourer’s clutches once again.”</p><p>“The Triwizard Tournament” Draco murmurs softly and Greengrass nods.</p><p>“The cruel king had been called into battle by the Devourer, but alas, the knight had escaped his clutches too. However, the Devourer would give the cruel king a chance to prove his loyalty. For there was an object he desired, believing it to hold the secret to the knight’s defeat.”</p><p>It was true. His father had not sought out the Dark Lord after his defeat at Godric’s Hollow. Something he would pay dearly for later, in his desperation to prove himself to his master upon his return.</p><p>“This object was a crystal ball, sought to divine the reason the knight had bested the Devourer. The cruel king was tasked with the retrieval of the crystal ball, as well as setting a trap for the knight.”</p><p>Draco knows about this. He knows about the prophecy. That damned thing caused his family a lot of trouble. It had been the push that knocked down the proverbial dominos.</p><p>“The prince began to notice that his father was acting differently. His father was proud, feared, respected, and powerful. His father was indestructible. His father bowed to no man. However, his father <em>did</em> bow. The prince would do well to remember that for all his talk of power and respect, it was the king who bowed, groveling at the feet of the Devourer.”</p><p>Draco stiffens. His hand stills around her hair and she closes her eyes, as if to give him some privacy in the moment.</p><p>“The cruel king was able to lure the knight and his friends to the Devourer, but the knight had managed to get the crystal ball first, and it eluded the cruel king’s hand. It slipped onto the floor, and shattered.</p><p>Her eyes snap open and she looks into his, as he stares down at her. She reaches up and gives his cheek a gentle touch before dropping her hand. He can tell by her sorrowful expression she is about to deliver a blow to his psyche.</p><p>“With it, shatters an illusion. For the king that once bowed to no one, is little more than a slave, to be directed and controlled by the Devourer’s will. He is no more than a Puppet King. And why should a prince follow the direction of a Puppet King?”</p><p>Draco can’t breathe. He can’t think. His father has always been the driving force in his life, directing every move and commanding every direction. His newfound freedom these past four years had only been because his father allowed it. Had he called him home, Draco knows he would have returned to him. He always did.</p><p>“The prince would do well to remember that a prince should never bow to a Puppet King. A prince should strike his own path, for a Puppet King is a king no more.”</p><p>Draco stares straight ahead. His illusion had indeed been shattered that night, all those years ago, when his father had been left to rot inside Azkaban.  His hero, the man he looked up to, the man he desired to please above all others, had never been that great after all.</p><p>“That’s it.” she says and Draco feels his chest lighten.</p><p>“What’s that one for?” Draco asks. This didn’t seem to be reveal some dark secret about the Dark Lord like the other one had.</p><p>“I think, in a way, the stories are preparing you for something, although I don’t know what. There are some things you need to recognize about your own life before you can accomplish what Snape wanted you to do.” Greengrass explains.</p><p>“What if I don’t want to do anything?” he asked quietly.</p><p>“That’s your decision. I think you should consider it though. When you find what it is.”</p><p>He looks down at her and finds her to be already staring at him. As if embarrassed that she has been caught in the act, she looks away quickly and moves to sit up. Once sitting she turns around to face him and says “Draco.” she murmurs very softly, unsurely.</p><p>“Hmm.” he acknowledges, as he watches her look downs and plays with the hem of her sleeve.</p><p>“Are you going to kill me? Eventually, I mean?” she asks, not looking up at him.</p><p>“Weren’t you begging me to kill you two hours ago?” Draco asks scathingly. The truth still bothers him. That he can’t kill, even if he wanted to.</p><p>“Well, I see now that perhaps I may have been a little dramatic.” she mumbles, moving to wring her hands together.</p><p>“Oh? Were you? I hadn’t noticed.” he said sarcastically.</p><p>She is quiet and her hands still. She looks at him with wide dark eyes, and her gaze seems to be prying an answer out of him.</p><p>“No. I’m not going to kill you.” Draco says and once he acknowledges out loud that he isn’t going to do it, he feels relief spread over him.</p><p>A smile breaks across her face and it’s blinding. Her eyes are filled with light and if he looks closely he can see himself reflected.</p><p>“Excellent.” she breathes, clearly trying to make light of what was an admittedly awkward situation. Then, she pauses, clearly hesitating, and asks “Why?”</p><p>“You were very convincing.” he drawls.</p><p>She blushes again and looks down. She is running her hands over the upholstery on the couch, feeling the material beneath her fingers. Fidgety little thing, really.</p><p>He can feel the thoughts of his father creeping back in again, and he doesn’t want to think about them. He doesn’t want to think about anything, really.</p><p>“Very convincing.” he murmurs again, leaning forward slightly. She is staring at his mouth and he can see her eyes widen slightly. He gets closer, and pauses, just barely touching her lips with his, giving her a chance to move away. He is waiting for her to kiss him, and though she seems nervous, she presses her lips to his, and he slowly presses forward, until she is underneath him on the couch.  </p><p>Her hands slide into his hair, and she runs it through her fingers. She gives a gasp when he gently bites her lip. His lips trail down her neck and she gives a soft whimper and her fingers tug his hair. He pulls back to look at her, and she is panting, breathless and she looks slightly surprised.</p><p>“Is that why you decided not to kill me?” she blurts incredulously.</p><p>Draco laughs and says “It may have been a contributing factor.”</p><p>“Contributing factor?” she huffs.</p><p>He silent for a moment, before sitting back up. “I don’t want to kill anyone.”</p><p>She nods but she doesn’t sit back up. She stares at the ceiling.</p><p>“You’re a blood traitor, Greengrass. I think I may be one too. That’s why. I can’t kill you because you may be the only one left who will ever understand.”</p><p>He leans back down pressing himself to her, and her arms wrap around his neck as he presses his lips to hers. He is begging her to understand that everything in this new world is wrong, and he was afraid that he had stamped out all others who could stand to fight it. And yet, here she was, a rebel herself.</p><p>               He is drinking her in, the color in her cheeks, her soft sighs and gasps, the way her fingers slid up the back of his neck to tangle in his hair again. His hand trails down to her thigh and when she gasps, he slips his tongue into her mouth.</p><p>               He pulls back for air and rests his forehead on hers, gasping for breath. “I have to go.”  </p><p>               She is looking at him, and he finds himself unable to move. “Would you fight back? If given the opportunity?” she asks.</p><p>               “I don’t know. I’d want to. But I don’t know If I can.” he says as he untangles himself from her. </p><p>               She is quiet and simply readjusts herself, stretching out fully on the couch once he stands.</p><p>               “I’ll be back tomorrow, Greengrass.” he offers, on his way to the door.</p><p>               “Astoria.” she calls out after him. He turns raising an eyebrow.  “My name. It’s Astoria.”</p><p>               “Alright<em>. Astoria</em>.” he stretches out the syllables mockingly, lazily, teasing. She doesn’t rise to his bait. It’s an intimacy he wasn’t ready for, but now that he says her name, he feels its quite fitting.</p><p>               He walks out the front door, and turns to cast some wards on the house. Hopefully, no one would find her here.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. Astoria</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Astoria can feel the heat in her cheeks and her stomach feels like it is doing somersaults. She feels as if she could dance or laugh out loud. She isn’t going to die! Well, at least Draco isn’t going to kill her. It would be unrealistic to rule out death. It always was in their world.</p><p>Although, that is not the only reason she feels like floating. Her thoughts are filled with silver eyes, soft lips, and sure hands. She had never gotten to know someone so intimately in such a short time before, but these stories have a way of baring his soul to her.</p><p>She can feel the ghost of his touch, and phantom lips pressed against her own.</p><p>She isn’t stupid, and she knows that it isn’t exactly a declaration of love. But he is right. It has been a long time since she hasn’t felt alone. Bellatrix and the Dark Lord have done an excellent job of sniffing out blood traitors.</p><p>She knows that there is tension in the ranks. But the Dark Lord is strong. He can’t be killed. And Bellatrix? She is another sort of monster. It is to late to defy him. There is no one left who can stand against them. Potter disappeared four years ago, his Order and D.A with him. They have not struck again to her knowledge, although Lestrange and the Dark Lord would do everything they could to hide it if they did.</p><p>She doesn’t want to get her hopes up that Draco may be able to defy the Death Eaters and their leaders. She knows it would be extremely unfair to ask anyone to do that. To risk his life, the lives of the ones he loved, and his future, for a long dead cause. A cause he may have only just begun to realize the importance of.</p><p>He is risking a lot for her, and she is very grateful. Doing the right thing is never so simple in their world, even though they are all to blame for it. They have created this world, and it may be to late to undo the trajectory they have set it on.</p><p>She begins to survey the room around her. The sitting room is quite small and the walls are completely covered in books. Brilliant. Perhaps she can find something to entertain her. She was lying on the thread-bare couch, and she could see an old armchair and a rather rickety table next to it.</p><p>She gets up and begins to move around. There is a small kitchen to the right, and stairs that must lead toward a cellar. Upstairs there is a small bedroom and washroom. She feels a little weird being in her dead Professors house. Snape had always frightened her. He wondered what he would say to her now, if he knew what pains she had taken to fulfill the task her gave her.</p><p>There were seven stories left. Seven stories until Draco knew what Snape wanted him to do. Originally, she had thought Snape placed his faith in the wrong person. However, her doubts were fading. Draco continued to surprise her. He was not the same person she had observed four years ago. He had changed. But would it be enough?</p><p>              </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. Draco</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She is intoxicating. He has gotten far to attached and it is far outside of his comfort zone. He doesn’t know why he keeps telling her things. Perhaps it’s the fact that she already knows so much about him, that his walls were knocked down for him, removing his responsibility to be that vulnerable on his own.</p><p>               He apparates home. He has a dinner party to get ready for.</p><p>               When he arrives at the Nott estate, his first thought is that it has undergone extensive renovations. Nott was doing well in this new society. When he walks through the grand entrance, a house elf has barely taken his cloak, when Daphne comes storming up to him.</p><p>               She is, as always, beautiful. She reminds him of a painting. Daphne’s smooth, sleek, golden hair is up in a careful updo that would rival his mother’s in intricacy. Her crystal eyes are sparkling with anger and she is surprisingly very tall, nearly reaching his height.</p><p>               He isn’t surprised, but certainly regretful, when her palm connects with his cheek, hard. “Fuck, Daphne.”</p><p>               “I can’t believe you are here. You aren’t supposed to be here.” Daphne seethes.</p><p>               “I don’t want to be here. But I have to talk to you.” he tries. He can tell that she isn’t going to listen to him anyway.</p><p>               “Talk to me? What could you possibly say that I want to hear? I can’t even believe you!” Daphne looks as if she is preparing for the tirade of a lifetime, and perhaps rightfully so. Draco decides he is going to have to defy Astoria’s wishes. He thinks that Astoria would rather he warn Daphne of her husband, rather than protect the secret of Astoria’s life.</p><p>               Draco moves to embrace Daphne and she fights against him. “What the hell do you think you are doing? You think a hug is going to fix this?” she hisses venomously.</p><p>               “She’s alive.” he breathes into her ear, so incredibly softly, that it’s a miracle she hears it. Her body goes slack and her eyes move to his face, searching for a lie. He moves away from her when he hears footsteps.</p><p>               “Malfoy! You came!” he hears Nott call.</p><p>               “Wouldn’t miss it.” Draco says, his tone flat.</p><p>               “Hope she wasn’t giving you too hard of a time.” Nott says jovially, putting an arm around Daphne, who is still standing slack jawed.</p><p>She quickly collects herself and says “Well, I suppose it’s just the way things are. It’s not as if he volunteered.” Draco sighs in relief.</p><p>“What did I tell you? I knew she’d come around.” Nott said, removing his arm and clapping Draco roughly on the back. An awkward silence ensues, but Nott hardly seems to notice. “Alright, well Rowle and I are going to talk business for a while. Dinner is served at half- past seven.” Nott said, before retreating down the hallway.</p><p>“Draco. We just put in a new fountain in the garden. Do you want to come and see it?” Daphne asks, though it is more command than question, as she practically drags him outside and around the back of the manor. She is silent the whole way, and his attempts to start conversation are ignored.</p><p>When he thinks they must have walked half a mile, she turns and says “She’s alive.” Draco says nothing but gives a slight nod. To anyone watching it might have just appeared as a twitch.</p><p>Relief floods her expression. “Thank Merlin. How’d you do it? I was angry, but everyone knew you didn’t have a choice.” Draco says nothing and merely walks to the edge of the fountain. The waterspouts make an almost deafening noise. Daphne is smart, choosing this place. Someone would have to be right next to them to hear what they were saying.</p><p>“I can’t tell you Daphne. You know that. She’s safe for now. I don’t know how much longer that will be the case, but I’ll do what I can for as long as I can.” Draco says, keeping his tone soft despite the roar of the fountain.</p><p>Daphne throws her arms around him. “Thank you.” she whispers repeatedly.</p><p>“Get off Daphne. What if someone sees!” Draco hisses. Daphne immediately retreats.</p><p>“Oh. Right” she mumbles.</p><p>They stand there silently for a time. Draco soon readies himself for what is undoubtedly an uncomfortable conversation.</p><p>“Daphne. I think you need to get away from Nott.” Draco had expected an outburst, but Daphne just nods resignedly.</p><p>“I know. He’s changed. Too much time in the Dark Arts. It’s twisted him somehow.” Daphne whispers. Draco doesn’t say anything. “You remember him from school. He was probably the nicest out of all of us. A little sleazy, sure. But harmless. Then, well, I guess like all of us, he had to grow up.”</p><p>“I think he killed your father.” Draco says bluntly, cringing. He was never one for subtlety with difficult matters. He could hide things, sure. But if forced to talk about sensitive subjects, his words had an edge.</p><p>Daphne laughed and said, “Yeah. Absolutely. I know he did.” Draco raises his eyebrows in surprise.</p><p>“What?” he asks, dumbfounded.</p><p>“My father was caught defying an ordinance. He was ordered to be killed. No trial. Nott made it look like a suicide to spare our family the shame. I don’t know how he convinced the Dark Lord. I guess they are closer than I thought.” Daphne explains, a sardonic edge to her voice.</p><p>“What was he caught doing?” Draco asks, curious.</p><p>“I don’t see how it’s any of your business.” Daphne huffs.</p><p>“I saved your sister.” Draco counters.</p><p>“Fine. He bred basilisks.” Daphne says.</p><p>Interesting. Draco wonders if… no. He couldn’t possibly know. “Why?”</p><p>“I don’t know Draco. He’s a Greengrass. An old man. Why do any of our parents collect dark objects? He was just fascinated by it.” Daphne says offhand. She’s probably right. Greengrass couldn’t have known.</p><p>“I didn’t even know that was an ordinance.” Draco comments.</p><p>“Yeah. It came about two years ago. It caused quite a stir you know. The whole reason many even supported the Dark Lord was that he promised complete freedom to practice any sort of magic one wanted, including the freedom to breed any animal one wanted.”</p><p>“Hm. Hagrid would have loved that.” Draco quips.</p><p>Daphne laughs. “Yeah. Well, anyway. The Dark Lord banned basilisk breeding and the casting of Fiendfyre. Sort of an odd combination. But, you never know with his eminence.”</p><p>Draco doesn’t miss the sarcastic tone of “eminence.” “Careful Daphne.”</p><p>Daphne nods. “We should be getting back.”</p><p>They walk back together in silence. When they reach the dining room, Draco grimaces. It’s quite ostentatious for his tastes. Which, is saying something.</p><p>Pansy raises an eyebrow at his entrance. Her husband isn’t with her, which doesn’t surprise Draco. Macmillan probably wants to stay away from Death Eaters as much as possible.</p><p>“Draco. I believe congratulations are in order.” she says, sarcasm dripping from her tone.</p><p>“What for?” Draco asks as he takes a seat next to Pansy, and across from Rowle.</p><p>“You are going to be a cousin!” she exclaims, false sweetness dripping from her voice.</p><p>“I thought Andromeda was in the Reeducation Center.” Draco says. Even so. She wouldn’t remarry.</p><p>“Not Andromeda.” Pansy sings. Draco feels his stomach drop. No. Absolutely not. Please for the love of any deity up there. No. Pansy laughs at his expression.</p><p>“But. That means…” Draco chokes out. He can’t even finish the thought.</p><p>“It seems our Dark Lord has a successor.” Nott said, laughing. Draco feels sick. It’s deplorable, really.</p><p>“Well. That’s lovely.” Draco says, not meaning it in the slightest. He can feel Mrs. Greengrass giving him the evil eye and he shifts uncomfortably.</p><p>“What’s been going on with work? Are there any leads on Potter?” Pansy asks softly. Draco starts. You aren’t supposed to speak of it. As far as anyone is concerned, Potter never got away. He ran away. He is disgraced, never to be mentioned or thought about again.</p><p>“Macmillan.” Rowle growls in warning.</p><p>“What! I’m just curious. What work do you even do nowadays? There isn’t hardly any opposition left!” Pansy exclaims, taking a sip of wine.</p><p>“Well, we look for him, for sure. But we never find him. Everyone thinks the whole lot of em are dead. Right now, we are gearing up for an invasion of France. The Dark Lord isn’t content with just Great Britain anymore. He wants to expand his rule.”</p><p>“So you have no idea where he is? He and his little group?” Pansy asks, widening her eyes to look like a curious, innocent young lady. Draco snorts. Daphne discreetly kicks Pansy under the table.</p><p>“No.” Rowle growls, giving Pansy a particularly nasty look.</p><p>“Shame.” Pansy remarks, blasé.</p><p>“Wow. Pansy. Perhaps Macmillan has gotten to you? Are you planning to run away to find your husband’s precious D.A?” Nott says it causally enough, teasingly. But there is a dangerous edge to his voice.</p><p>“And leave my gorgeous home, my garden? To slum it in some tent with Mudbloods? Don’t be ridiculous.” Pansy says scathingly. The tension at the table dissolves.</p><p>“Didn’t know you were into gardening.” Draco says, trying to change topics. Daphne shoots him a grateful look.</p><p>“Yes. It’s really quite enjoyable. I’m getting pretty good. Which is saying something. My herbology grades were absolutely dismal.”</p><p>“I think all of ours were.” Daphne supplies, jokingly.</p><p>The conversation flows more easily. Except from Rowle, who spends the whole time eating his food as if he is fighting a battle.</p><p>As they get up to leave, Draco catches Pansy’s arm, saying “Ill walk you out.”</p><p>“Draco! I’m a married woman.” Pansy quips playfully. Draco rolls his eyes and leads her away from the table. When they get outside the estate, Draco turns to her and says “I’d like to talk to your husband.”</p><p>Pansy raises her eyebrow. “What about?” she asks.</p><p>“I just want to meet him. That’s all.” Draco says, unconvincingly.</p><p>Pansy sniffs. “I’ll owl you.” She disapparates.</p><p>Draco stares at the spot where she disappeared. “Malfoy! A word!” Rowle growls from behind him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0032"><h2>32. Astoria</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Astoria does not like to think of herself as an intrusive person. So, when she is digging through the drawers, it is certainly out of boredom, not because she is nosing around her old potions professor’s house.</p><p>               Unfortunately, Snape was a minimalist. There was absolutely nothing here. She hadn’t gone down into the cellar, because something didn’t sit right with her, being alone in a house at night. Nothing good ever happened in cellars.              </p><p>               She is certainly doing a bit of cleaning. This place is quite dirty. As she’s up in the bedroom, dusting the nightstand, she opens the drawer. Again, she isn’t nosey. Just curious. There is something in this drawer, however.</p><p>               A muggle cigarette lighter? Snape smoked? The muggle way? That’s strange. She picks it up and clicks it. Nothing happens. Except, a few seconds later, a ball of light zooms from a streetlight outside and into the object itself. Astoria’s eyes widen in wonder and when she clicks it again, the ball of light returns to the streetlamp.</p><p>               How curious.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0033"><h2>33. Draco</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>               Thorfinn Rowle is just as ugly now as he was four years ago. His hair had been blonde, but it’s thinned to the point of nonexistence. With watery blue eyes, that seem far to small for his enormous head and a body that looks reminiscent of a troll, he really is quite the sight.</p><p>               Draco has a hard time looking at him, and it isn’t just because he is ugly. Draco cast the cruciatus  curse on Rowle before he started his seventh year at Hogwarts. It’s certainly one of his most unpleasant memories. He hopes there are no hard feelings, but he doubts it.</p><p>               He is waiting for Rowle to say something, but it appears that glowering is all he wants to do at the moment. “Rowle?” Draco prompts coldly, earning a glare fiercer than the one he was already receiving.</p><p>               “Where’ve you been Malfoy?” Rowle asks. His voice is rough and lacks the refinement of so many in their circle.</p><p>               “Travelling. Everyone knows that.” Draco dismisses, drawing his wand, readying himself to disapparate.</p><p>               “Really? Well, we had trackers out for you. Looking for you. No one could trace you.” Rowle says. Draco has to fight the surge of victory he feels. He is always good at hiding, although people never seem to think he is. He can be flashy, but he can disappear to.</p><p>               “Guess you weren’t looking in the right places.” Draco remarks, offhandedly.</p><p>               Rowle gives him a glare before saying, “Well, I’m sure if you knew we were looking for you, you would have come back.” Draco tries hard not to snort as he gives Rowle a nod.</p><p>               “How come they called you back?” Rowle asks, suspicion in his voice.  </p><p>               “To kill Greengrass.” Draco says, nonchalantly.</p><p>               “Really? All the way back? For a kill?” Rowle questions. Draco feels his stomach drop. As stupid as he looks, Rowle may be on to something. It was certainly odd to call him back for a kill. He thought Bellatrix was simply tired of his vacation. Maybe there was more to it.</p><p>               “I guess. Why don’t you ask my Aunt?” Draco snarks.</p><p>               “They were going to let me kill her. You know that?” Rowle says, as if he didn’t get the last licorice wand in the package.</p><p>               “Sorry you were deprived of the opportunity.” Draco spits.</p><p>               “You should be grateful you got to honor our Lord in such a way.”  Rowle groused. Draco is done with this conversation. It seems everyone wants to know where he’s been and about how he killed Astoria.</p><p>Astoria’s sentencing had brought a lot of unwanted attention. If her blood wasn’t pure no one would be interested in the slightest. It was becoming less and less advantageous to have high blood status. If you were a half blood, no one hardly notice you.</p><p>               He is walking away, but Rowle is following him. “I’m glad she’s dead. Thought she was too good to spread her legs for me? Ha! She was lucky—.” Rowle doesn’t get to finish his sentence. Draco fires another stunning spell, his second that day. Draco lowers his wand and snorts. A memory charm is in order. Stunning him is suspicious.</p><p>               An obliviate and an apparation later, Draco is entering his families’ home. He needs to speak with his father. Avoiding him does nothing but prolong the inevitable.</p><p>The manor has an air of neglect and is falling into disrepair. Draco finds this odd. It’s not as if they don’t have the funds to make adjustments. His father was always one for keeping up appearances. </p><p>It is no secret that his father was no longer a member of The Dark Lord’s inner circle, despite his father’s desperate attempts to worm his way in again. It would surprise Draco if he is even invited to Death Eater Meetings. Maybe this is the reason for the dismal manor.</p><p>It was a miracle the Dark Lord even let his parents live after the Battle. He supposed a victory made him forgiving.</p><p>Down the long hallways he walks, and the closer he gets to his father’s study, the slower he walks. He is dreading this meeting. He knocks on the door, embarrassingly softly, as if he is hoping his father won’t hear him. He can tell from his father’s tone that he thinks his mother knocked.</p><p>“Come in.” his father says quietly, his face assuming mock surprise as Draco walks in. “Ah. The prodigal son returns. “ his father murmurs, menacingly. It’s a muggle reference, and his father is attempting to use it to mock him. Draco says nothing and sits in the chair across from his father’s desk.</p><p>“Well. What is it you want? More money?” his father asks, his tone sardonic.   </p><p>“I had a question. I was in The Gallery the other day and I saw an object that interested me. I was wondering if you could tell me more about it.” Draco replied. His father’s eyebrows rose in interest, a cold smile crossing his face. He always did love to talk about dark magic. His father gestures for him to continue.</p><p>“I saw a book. It had what looked like a burned hole in the middle. Do you know anything about it?” Draco prodded. Lucius shifted uncomfortably and folded his hands.</p><p>“I don’t know much. I know the Dark Lord took a great interest in it. He was most displeased after the rather… unfortunate situation in your second year.” His father is staring at him suspiciously.</p><p>“It’s just that’s a big deal. For the Dark Lord to trust you to hide an object like that.” Draco said, stroking his father’s ego. His father looked gratified but unconvinced. Which was why it probably wasn’t wise to ask “Did the Dark Lord ever ask anyone else to guard any other sort of object?”</p><p>There is a heavy silence in the air. His father narrows his eyes and leans forward. “Draco. That’s quite the question. May I ask why?” his father queries. Draco says nothing, realizing his mistake. His father’s eyes bore into him for a long time, before he decides that Draco must have no nefarious intentions.</p><p>“As far as I know, your Aunt was given a cup of some sort. It got robbed from Gringotts by <em>them</em>.” His words are venom at the mention of Potter. His father continues. “However, as you know the Dark Lord was able to recover it during the battle. No harm done.”</p><p>“You don’t know the nature of these objects?” Draco pushes.</p><p>“No. The Dark Lord need not give a reason. His wish is our command.”</p><p>Draco nods. He wishes he knew more about what happened in the battle. What he does know is a blur. Perhaps Macmillan will be able to answer some of his questions. As he gets up to leave, his father holds up a hand stopping him.</p><p>“Draco. I’m glad you are home.” Draco is for a moment, surprised. Perhaps that’s why he lowers himself into the chair again. His father seems to be assessing him before saying “I’m glad Bellatrix listened to my suggestion.” Draco narrows his eyes.</p><p>“What suggestion?”</p><p>“I suggested Bellatrix ask you to the trials. Give you a task to prove yourself.”</p><p>Draco is silent.</p><p>“You were hard to track down of course. Your mother gave me the location of your last letter. It was easier then. “</p><p>Silence.</p><p>“Draco. Listen. Killing the girl will get back to the Dark Lord. He may allow you to sit in on meetings again. You could help us rebuild our name. There may even be a ministry position in your future.” His father is smiling, but it is cold and calculating.</p><p>Draco makes to leave, but his father says “The Dark Lord asked us to bring you home.” Draco feels his blood run cold, and his stomach drops. He looks toward Lucius and sees a puzzled look on his face. His father must not know the reason behind the Dark Lord’s sudden request.</p><p>“Draco. The Dark Lord has not asked to see you, but he may soon. This is wonderful news for our family.”</p><p>Draco realizes his father isn’t really glad to have him home. He is glad that Draco could increase his status. Nothing more. He stands up without another word, and exits. He hears his father call out to him, but he ignores him.</p><p>Snape is right. His father is a bitter old man, desperate to get back a paper crown.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0034"><h2>34. Astoria</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Draco comes in early today, almost eight in the morning. He carries a bag that he sets down next to the chair. She jumps when she hears him enter, and he smirks at her startled expression. It’s clear she was asleep, and she tries to rub the sleep out of her eyes. Draco does have scones wrapped in paper for her, so she forgives him for waking her up.</p><p>However, when she takes the scones, he sits down across from her and shoots an apologetic expression her way. Ah. He’s done something. Trying to bribe her with scones.</p><p>“What have you done?” Astoria asks. Draco gives her a startled look.</p><p>“What do you mean?” Draco says, clearly avoiding the question.</p><p>“You look guilty. Like your up to something.” Astoria accuses playfully.</p><p>“I’m always up to something.” he drawls, a devilish smirk on his lips. Although it makes her heart beat faster, she fixes him with an unamused expression. He sighs dramatically and leans his head against the back of the armchair.</p><p>“Fine. I told your sister you’re alive.” Draco admits.</p><p>“What?” Astoria exclaims. Draco doesn’t respond and he is avoiding looking her in the eye. “Draco, we agreed not to tell her! You can’t just make decisions on your own like that. Can you imagine the danger you just put her in?”</p><p>Draco fixes her with a cold glare. “I call the shots here. There is no ‘we’. I’m the one risking everything to keep you alive. What I say goes.” Draco retorts. Astoria scoffs.</p><p>“Oh. You call the shots? Please.” Astoria scoffs. Draco narrows his eyes at her derision.</p><p>“For your information, I had to tell her, or she wasn’t going to listen to me about Nott. She wouldn’t even let me speak to her until I told you. I just put myself and my family at more risk for <em>your </em>sister. You should be grateful!” Draco shouts.</p><p>Astoria stands too. “Grateful? For what? Not killing me? Sorry, but I think not being a murderer is pretty standard.”</p><p>“Who do you know who isn’t a murderer?” Draco spits.</p><p>“The right thing is not determined by the number of people who do it, Draco!”</p><p>Draco’s steely eyes flash. “The right thing is not always the smart thing either.” Astoria has nothing to say to this. She is hurt, honestly.</p><p>“Well. I’m sorry you regret your decision.” Astoria forces out, turning away from him.</p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>, Astoria. You know that’s not what I meant.”  Draco groans.</p><p>“I know.” Astoria says softly, even though she doesn’t believe him.  “If you don’t mind, I need a minute. I’ll be back soon.” Astoria says, turning to retreat.</p><p>Draco grabs her wrist, pulling her back, pulling her close. He holds both wrists, keeping her in place. “Cut the dramatics.” He says harshly.</p><p>“Dramatics? You are the one who just said that—” Astoria tries to get out.</p><p>“Yes. The dramatics. Its annoying.” Draco says, cutting her off.</p><p>Astoria can feel herself shake with anger. “I am not being dramatic! You are the one who said that you regretted—”</p><p>“I never said regret. You said that!” Draco shouts. Astoria can feel tears well up in her eyes, and she desperately tries to fight them. She can see Draco eyes softening, and she can practically see him coming down from the high of his anger.</p><p>His hands slide up her arms and down her sides. He is searching her face and she doesn’t know what he is looking for. “I regret nothing.” he says.</p><p>He kisses her achingly soft. “You have to know that.” he murmurs. Astoria nods and his hands hold her hips in place. This had been different then the other times he kissed her. The other times it had been desperate and full of need. She had felt he wanted to escape from reality, or simply couldn't fight the urge to kiss someone. This one was almost sweet, which surprised her far more than any of the other times his lips had met hers.   </p><p>               “You’re right.” she whispers, closing her eyes.</p><p>               “About?” Draco asks, and she can feel his lips brush against hers.</p><p>               “My sister. You did the right thing. I just feel trapped in here. Like I can’t do anything. You have to go to such pains to keep me hidden, and I can’t do anything to help.” Astoria says.</p><p>               “You help me.”  Draco says softly, and when she looks at him his eyes are piercing and she wants to look away, suddenly very shy. A hand moves to tip her chin up, and she can’t help but look at him now. His thumb traces the outline of her mouth before pulling away.</p><p>               “Listen, I’m grateful for what you’ve done. But that doesn’t give you the excuse to make all of these decisions without telling me. If you would have told me, I would have listened, and maybe agreed with you.” Astoria says. Draco looks at her for a moment, before nodding in agreement, clearly relenting. That was easier than she had expected.</p><p>He walks to the bag he brought and pulls out fifteen vials, all with liquids in various colors. Her potions. One by one he places them on the end table. “Take these.”</p><p>She takes a sip of each one before sitting back down on the couch. “Thank you.” she says. Draco nods but doesn’t say anything.</p><p>Astoria thinks he will sit in the chair again, but he comes to the couch, laying across it, his head in her lap. She makes a noise of surprise, but he only smirks up at her. “Tell me a story, Greengrass.” He says smiling lazily and closing his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>              </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0035"><h2>35. Draco</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Draco is expecting Astoria to start right away. She usually does. However, she seems to be hesitating. He is giving her time. Perhaps she needs to collect her thoughts. However, after a few moments more, she still hasn’t started.</p><p>               “Can you not remember it?” Draco asks, opening his eyes to look at her. She looks nervous, and incredibly sad. “What?” he asks.</p><p>               “This one… is particularly shocking.” Astoria murmurs, unable to meet his eyes. Draco is now nervous as well, and wants it over and done with.</p><p>               “Astoria.” he warns, and she looks a little shocked he used her name, but she nods her head and begins.</p><p>               “This one is called The Covenant.” She waits several more moments and just when Draco is about to say something she begins, very reluctantly.</p><p>“Shortly before the prince was born, at the time when the puppet king first entered the Devourer’s service, the puppet king was eager to prove himself, and rise within the ranks.  However, others were far more devout in their worship of the Devourer.”</p><p>               Draco has closed his eyes again and one of Astoria’s fingers has come to run across the collar of his shirt, feeling the fabric.</p><p>               “Assessing the thread count?” Draco asks during Astoria’s beat of silence, opening one eye to look at her.</p><p>               She turns red like he knew she would and draws her hand back quickly. “Sorry. I tend to touch things when I’m nervous.” He raises an eyebrow in response. “It’s a way of grounding myself, I suppose.”</p><p>               Draco nods. He can understand this. “What’s got you so nervous?” he asks.</p><p>               “I told you. I think this story is very difficult. It’s short, but…” she trails off. Her hands are now running against the upholstery of the couch. He takes one of her hands and places it back on the collar of his shirt.</p><p>               “Difficult or not, it has to be done.” he reminds, shutting his eyes again once he feels her fingers follow the line of his collar.</p><p>               “The puppet king was one day in a meeting with the Devourer’s most loyal followers. Another follower had been goading him, questioning his loyalty in the presence of the Devourer. Not wanting to be outdone the puppet king pronounced that he was above all others in loyalty and would do anything in service to the Devourer.”</p><p>               Draco doesn’t know why Astoria is so worried about this story. “The Covenant” was surely his father promising service to the Dark Lord. Everyone knew his father was a Death Eater. Perhaps she is hesitant to bring it up, but he wishes she wouldn’t worry so much about it. His father’s devotion to the Dark Lord no longer shocks him.</p><p>               “However, the other follower did not believe the puppet king. He bid the puppet king to prove his loyalty, asked for a grand gesture to be done to show unwavering support. Of course, the Devourer liked this idea. An because the puppet king was a much younger man, and incredibly rash, he made a promise to the Dark Lord.”</p><p>               Ah. A promise. Nothing new. Astoria’s fingers were now brushing the base of his throat and he wonders if she is aware she is doing it. He thinks he may bring it up, but he doesn’t want to startle her again. It feels nice and he doesn’t want her to stop.</p><p>               “In his effort not to be made a fool of, in his fear of being made to seem disloyal, the puppet king swore to the Devourer. He stuck a covenant, promising his first-born son to the Devourer.”</p><p>               Draco draws in a sharp breath and he feels the room spin around him. That can’t be true. His mother had been pregnant with him during the First Wizarding War. It wasn’t possible that his father would have planned for him to take the mark before he was even born. It wasn’t true that his father had offered him up to the Dark Lord like he was a bag of gold.</p><p>               Astoria’s fingers have slid up to run through his hair and he tries to focus on her touch, willing himself to feel nothing but her.</p><p>               “The Devourer agreed that should he ever require the prince’s service, he would call upon him. The prince would do well to remember that there was never any doubt, never any choice, for what side the prince would choose: The Devourer over the Knight.”</p><p>               Draco can feel Astoria’s hands trembling in his hair. Perhaps it had always been hopeless. There was never any way he could have done the right thing.</p><p>               “The prince would also do well to remember that while we are our parent’s children, we are not their choices. The prince is always free to carve out his own destiny, for the covenant does not bind him. The prince would do well to remember he is always free to make his own choices.”</p><p>               Draco’s eyes snap open and he meets dark eyes, so deep and so bright, and for a moment he feels like his entire life isn’t crumbling down around him. He hates that he has become so dependent on her, and he hates even more that it is all happening so fast. How can this woman, who he’s known five days, be the only thing keeping him sane.</p><p>               In the moment, he no longer cares. He needs her. Now.</p><p>               He shoots up from his position and Astoria jumps in surprise. His lips crash onto hers and he pushes forward until she is underneath him. She gasps into him and her fingers curl into the hair at the nape of his neck.</p><p>               He can’t think about what she told him. He can’t or he’ll surely loose his mind. So he thinks about her soft cries as he moves from her lips to her neck. He thinks about how she feels underneath him and he thinks about how she parts her lips for him.</p><p>               A rational part of his bran kicks in, screaming <em>enough.</em> He pulls back suddenly and when he sees her, hair wild and lips swollen, he almost gives in again. But before he can, he stands up abruptly and flees the house, the door slamming behind him. He needs to go somewhere. He needs to breath.</p><p>               He could not go any farther with her. That would <em>really </em>be wrong. And quite possibly one of the worst things he could ever do. He was not always better than that, but he would be now. He’d have to be.</p><p>               When he is home, he doesn’t know why he flies down many flights of stairs to reach the cellar. He doesn’t know why he leans against the cold stone wall next to a cell. He wonders what <em>she</em> would tell him to do.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0036"><h2>36. Astoria</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Well, that went well. Except, to be honest, it most certainly did not. Her first thought was what in the world did she do wrong? Replaying every second of the kiss in her mind, she didn’t think she did anything out of the ordinary. Not that she would really know.</p><p>               He really didn’t have to leave so suddenly. Astoria is worried that perhaps she did do something wrong after all, and stands, going over to the bookshelf. As she runs the last several minutes in her mind, she feels the spines of the books, running her fingers across the black leather-bound covers. Potions. Dark arts. More potions.</p><p>               The leather is old and worn smooth. She likes the way it feels under her fingers, and she enjoys tracing every letter carved into the spines. She feels invigorated, no doubt thanks to the potions Draco brought. They really did help. They wouldn’t work forever of course, but when she takes them, she feels normal. She can <em>be </em>normal. She can run, jump, dance, shout. Eventually of course, when she isn’t quite so young, it will become harder and harder to feel this way. Eventually nothing will work. In her life, there is always an eventually.</p><p>               She really should work on not letting it hang over head. If there is one thing this whole experience has brought her, it is some perspective. She really could die sooner, so she should stop complaining about the time she does have.</p><p>               Her fingers trace the D in <em>Draughts for the Advanced Potion Maker</em>.  It makes her think of Daphne. At least her sister knew she was alive, and Astoria knows her sister is hardly the reckless type. As much as she loves Astoria, Daphne isn’t going to be trying to find her. If she is safe, Daphne is content.</p><p>               As guilty as it makes Astoria feel, it is nice being away from her sister. Daphne is probably Astoria’s best friend in the entire world. But, living with her is always difficult. Her sister casts a large shadow. It isn’t Daphne’s fault. Not really.</p><p>               But Daphne has always bought in whole-heartedly to concept of the perfect pure-blood woman. While she certainly is no fan of the Dark Lord, although she would never dare to speak it, and she isn’t a devout purist, she likes the traditions and customs of old wizarding society.</p><p>               Daphne adores the fancy dresses and the parties. She had loved competing with all the other witches their age for the most eligible bachelors. She loves the Halloween and Yule celebrations.  She loves keeping an estate and planning all manner of social events. Daphne has always been the prettiest girl in their circle, and she knew it, and loved it.</p><p>               Astoria didn’t really think Daphne could be faulted for this. It’s fine to enjoy that life, if it’s what you want. But it never seemed to appeal to Astoria in quite the same way. For one thing, Astoria was much to shy to be the belle of any ball. She tended to shy away from dresses that would stand out, or cause people to look at her. And while she held sparkling conversation and could be very charming one on one or in small groups, she had trouble entertaining large numbers of people. She just didn’t have a knack for planning parties, and she didn’t enjoy attending them.</p><p>               Daphne had always pushed her into that sort of life, out of nothing but love and a desire for Astoria to be happy. It was, nonetheless, trying for Astoria to keep up with Daphne, though she always gave it her best shot. Daphne was always dragging her to social events and dressing her up like a doll. It was exhausting for Astoria, and no matter how hard she tried, everyone always said Daphne did it better.</p><p>               Astoria had always had better grades than Daphne, though she knew it was immature to be comparing herself to her sister. She just couldn’t help herself. With sisters, things got competitive.  </p><p>               Daphne could be suffocating. Although Astoria knew it was her fault, she didn’t have anyone else for company. After Hogwarts, Astoria hardly left the house. She didn’t feel comfortable going to Diagon Alley or any other public place in Wizarding Britain. They were always crawling with Death Eaters and she avoided keeping company with such people, though it was harder and harder to do so.</p><p>               Apparently, she didn’t avoid snogging them, she thought, cheeks heating up.</p><p>               Oh dear. Today had been an absolute disaster. Not wanting to think about that anymore she pulls down a book and random and flops back down on the couch. A book about love potions. Ugh.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0037"><h2>37. Draco</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for not updating. I had a crazy couple weeks. After this weekend, I should be back to updating more regularly.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Draco’s chest rises and falls, and he’s breathing heavily. His face feels flushed and he presses the back of his neck to the cool stone walls of the cellar. He is slumped against the bars of the cellar cell and he is thinking of what she would tell him to do. He closes his eyes and remembers.</p><p>She’s there with her scraggly blonde hair long and unkept. Her blue eyes are piercing, and they had been arguing again. Rather, he had been arguing and she, as usual was refusing to engage in anymore than slightly heated discussion.  </p><p>“You have to help me get out of here. I need your help. Please.” she had whispered, practically begging.</p><p>“I can’t. You know I can’t. There isn’t anything that I can do. You have to believe me!” his tone is harsh, but he too is begging. Begging her to understand that he can’t do anything risky when the Dark Lord himself is dining, just a few floors above.</p><p>“I believe you’re too scared to do anything. That I believe.” Her blue eyes are flashing now, but what she says is not out of anger. It is simply the truth. That is why it stings more.</p><p>He hurls insults her way, but she doesn’t respond. As he turns to leave, she whispers “You’re a coward.” It burns him, and he visibly flinches. Its terrible because she doesn’t say it as an insult. It’s a fact, not a judgement. An observation.</p><p>He draws his wand, and he points it a her, hand shaking. He thinks he will curse her. He doesn’t. He lowers his wand and leaves. Holiday break was over. She would stay in the cellar and he would go back to Hogwarts. By the time he got back for the Easter holidays, it would be a miracle if she was still alive.</p><p>He wanted to go back and break her out of the cellar. He wanted to run and leave. He didn’t know where they would go or what they would do, but he wanted to try. He wants to. But he doesn’t.</p><p>When Draco opens his eyes, he pushes himself to his feet and heads up the stairs to his room. He treads carefully, avoiding his father’s detection. He doesn’t want to speak to him or his mother. He manages to make it to his room. The clock reads half-past noon. He somehow thought it was night time and is surprised to find it’s only the afternoon.</p><p>An owl taps at the window interrupting his train of thought. He reaches the window to let the owl in, and unties the letter strapped to it’s leg.</p><p>He takes it and unfolds it.</p><p>
  <em>Draco, </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I know you said you wanted to talk to Ernie. He was difficult to convince, but he has agreed to see you. If you want to come by the house for dinner at seven-thirty, we would be glad to have you. Well, I will at least. Nothing formal, just the three of us. Let me know. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Pansy</em>
</p><p>Draco wrote back a quick reply confirming he would be attending before sinking down on the bed. He felt exhausted. Perhaps a nap was in order.</p><p>He awoke sometime later and got ready for dinner. Pansy had said casual, so he settled for a black turtleneck and dark dress pants. It was as casual as society permitted. He was able to take a back route to exit the manor to apparate, still not wanting to walk by the dining room where his parents had no doubt just sat down.</p><p>               The Macmillan estate was among the smaller ones in their circle, but it was certainly large enough to be comfortable. It was no doubt a downgrade for Pansy in size, but she was likely glad to be rid of her parents. They had never been the nicest sort.</p><p>               The garden is magnificent. Pansy must have been telling the truth about her newfound passion.</p><p>               He reaches the door and knocks. He can’t help but feel slightly nervous. He doesn’t enjoy meeting new people. He has no doubt Macmillan will be hesitant to exchange pleasantries with him, much less tell him information about the Battle of Hogwarts.  And where the remnants of the Order were hiding? Forget it.</p><p>               The door swings open and he sees that Pansy has opened the door. She looks him up and down, smirking. “I said it wasn’t formal.” she says. His face turns slightly pink.</p><p>               “Come on in.” Pansy stands aside, allowing him to walk past her. The entrance hall is tasteful. It lacks the usual extravagance, but it manages to show wealth and power in a subtler way. Draco finds he prefers it.</p><p>               Pansy steps around him and leads him to the dining room. When he steps inside, Ernie is sitting down, staring resolutely at his hands which are folded on the table. He has sandy hair that is rather long and flops down into his eyes. He seems lost in thought until Pansy clears her throat.</p><p>               He looks up and when he sees Draco, he narrows his eyes in suspicion. “Malfoy,” he says curtly, standing up. Draco clears his throat and offers his hand. For a moment, it looks as though Ernie is not going to shake it, but with a look from Pansy, he relents, clasping his hand briefly, before sitting back down.</p><p>               Ernie takes his seat and Pansy gestures to the seat across from him, before sitting down next to her husband. Draco takes the seat, and with a wave of Pansy’s wand, the food platters fly in from a door on the left.</p><p>               The mood is certainly awkward, although Pansy does try to compensate with small talk. She avoids talking about Draco, especially what he has been up to for the past four years. He appreciates this gesture, happy to talk about Pansy, however mundane it may be; her garden, the new dress she bought, a book she just read, how Ernie never took care of that boggart in one of the guest bedrooms, and would he please get on it. A lady shouldn’t have to deal with such things.</p><p>               Ernie snorted and said, “A lady?”, his voice dripping with good humored sarcasm. Pansy elbowed him. Silence returned. After a few moments Pansy sighed dramatically.</p><p>               “Draco. You are obviously here for a reason. Would it be too much to ask for you to get on with it? I don’t fancy being stuck here all night.” Draco had been taking a sip of wine, and now was choking on it in surprise.</p><p>               “Er, yes. Look. I was wondering if you could tell me more about the battle.” Draco is wondering how on earth he will be able to convince Macmillan to tell him anything. Ernie has his eyes narrowed, and any guard he had let down is now back in full force.</p><p>               “Sorry. I can’t tell you much.” Ernie says, not sounding sorry. Draco shifted in his seat. He looks to Pansy, but she is absent mindedly twirling pasta around her fork, seemingly incredibly bored by the question. The answer in her posture is clear; you’re on your own.</p><p>               “Look. I understand your hesitancy in telling me anything. And I can’t offer you a reason as to why you should trust me. I can only tell you it’s important.” Draco says, his tone calm, but not without urgency.  </p><p>               “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised that a Death Eater has come to me, trying to wheedle information out of me. Unfortunately, my answer still stands. I don’t know anything. Never have.” Ernie says, tone cold.</p><p>               Draco can feel his heart sink. He doesn’t know anyone else to ask. He suspects that Potter had known about the nature of the diary. And he also suspects the diary was not the only object the Dark Lord embedded his soul into. Ernie is the closest link to Potter he has access to. If he won’t tell him anything, it’s a done deal. No matter what Snape told him, he doesn’t have enough information to move forward.</p><p>               “I’m not a Death Eater.” Draco whispers, and Pansy’s fork clatters to her plate, as she stares at him in surprise. She shoots him a sympathetic look. It sounds foolish, even to his own ears. Of course he is a Death Eater. What he really means, is he doesn’t <em>want </em>to be.</p><p>               Ernie looks unimpressed. “Oh. Really? You aren’t? I suppose I’ve just been hearing rumors!” Ernie spits, as he reaches across the table. Draco tries to lean back but Ernie already has a hold of his sleeve. Ernie yanks it up, no doubt to mock him, but his mouth drops open in slight surprise.</p><p>               Draco’s mark is bandaged, hidden away from sight, covered by a careful crisscrossing of white cloth. To cover the mark is a crime, punishable by death. To cover it is a statement, a declaring of loyalties, ones that don’t align with the Dark Lord. It suggests lack of commitment, as well as regret. Of course, Draco hadn’t meant to be making a statement. Not really. He had just covered it because he was tired of looking at it, and tired of remembering.</p><p>               He is afraid now. He wears long sleeves for a reason. He doesn’t want anyone to see it bandaged. He doesn’t want them to know how ashamed he is, and he doesn’t want the risk it brings. He pushes his chair back abruptly and leaps to his feet, yanking his arm from Ernie’s grasp. His sleeve is still rolled up, and when he sees the bandages from the corner of his eye, he feels sick.</p><p>               He backs away from the table, Pansy standing up, looking as if she is about to go to him. Draco strides out of the room before she could approach. He is almost to the door, when he hears Ernie call out “Malfoy!”</p><p>               Draco turns, and looks at Ernie, who looks at him begrudgingly. He is surprised when Ernie says “Let’s talk.”</p><p>               Ernie leads Draco to a room which must be his study. It’s a bright, airy room, or would be if the sun hadn’t set. Ernie gestures to a set of armchairs by a fireplace that isn’t lit. They are an obnoxious shade of yellow, and Draco normally would have made a comment if he hadn’t been so desperate for information.</p><p>               Ernie sits down in an armchair and stares into the empty fireplace. Draco sits in the one adjacent to him, deciding Ernie should speak first. After a few moments, Ernie asks, heavily “What is it you want to know?”</p><p>               “I really just need an account of the battle, from the other sides perspective. I won’t repeat any of it outside this room. I just—” Draco pauses, suddenly at a loss for words. “I just need to know.” he finishes.</p><p>               Ernie nods. “Look. I’m not sure how much help I’ll be but I can tell you what I know.” Draco nods, trying not to seem suspiciously eager.</p><p>               “Most of the D.A was gathered in the room of requirement sometime that night. We could feel something was going on, we knew that an alarm had been set of in Hogsmeade, but we didn’t imagine it was Harry.” Ernie says, eyes slightly glazed and tone far off. Draco tries to fight the surprise at Potter being referred to in such a casual way. He hasn’t heard “Harry” in years.</p><p>               “Harry came in and we were so excited to see him. Hogwarts was awful and most of us had lost hope. When we saw him, we were sure, we were <em>so sure</em>, that we would fight. That we would <em>win.”</em> Draco nods sympathetically. In the final battle he had half-hoped Potter would win. It wasn’t like it would matter for him anyway. He had been sure he would be damned either way.</p><p>               “Anyway, Harry told us that there was something we needed to find.” Draco leans forward in interest. This is what he needs.</p><p>               “He said it was hidden in the castle. Hogwarts. He said it would help us defeat You-Know-Who. He didn’t know what it was or where it was. Just that he needed it and he needed our help to find it.”</p><p>               Draco snorted “Not much to go on.” he comments. Ernie laughed.</p><p>               “Yeah. As Seamus put it, it was nothing to go on.” Ernie said laughing. Draco nods with a smirk. So maybe Potter had gotten as far as he had. Draco figured there had to be more than one horcrux, but he didn’t know how many. He was starting to doubt Ernie knew much of anything about the Horcruxes.</p><p>               “He did tell us it was something to do with Ravenclaw. Said it was small and easy to hide. We were all stumped, but Luna had an idea.” Draco feels his hear clench at the mention of her name. She had been at Hogwarts, hiding in the room of requirement. He hadn’t even been able to see her.</p><p>               “She said it could the Lost Diadem of Ravenclaw. We sort of laughed. I mean, it is lost.” Draco gave a small laugh.</p><p>               “Anyway. Harry seemed to like the idea. So he went off to the Ravenclaw common room to look for it. I’m pretty sure you know where he ended up.” Draco nods. He can remember the flames, the searing heat, and Crabbe. Who if he was honest, probably didn’t need to be alive. He had gone a little crazy there at the end. But, it still hurt. Draco had never wanted any of them to be dead. Even if they never were real friends.</p><p>               If the diadem had been in that room, then it was destroyed. Perfect. But were there others? He knew of the item Bellatrix had hidden for the Dark Lord. Potter had been able to steal it.</p><p>               “Wasn’t there an item of some sort that Potter had? Already? Simmilar to the diadem?” Draco pressed.</p><p>               “Yeah. I saw Ron and Hermione with some sort of cup. They were trying to get to the third-floor bathroom, but Death Eaters got to them, about six. They managed to escape, but they lost the cup. Ron threw it away, a distraction so he could get Hermione out of there. I’m pretty sure she was furious from the way they were arguing.”</p><p>               Draco nodded. Diadem gone, cup intact. This is what he needed. He wasn’t sure he was going to do anything at all at this point. But if he was, he had to have more to go on than what Snape had revealed to him.</p><p>               “Then, its really a blur. Harry went down into the forest, and I don’t really know what happened to him. You-Know-Who promised to stop the fighting if Harry delivered himself, so you know Harry.” Draco smiled. Noble git, really.</p><p>               “Look. The battle got bad. If a couple of things had gone our way, I just know we could have won. They just didn’t. Neville kept saying that he was supposed to kill Nagini, but Voldemort came out of the forest, insisting he had killed Harry, but there was no body. So, I don’t know. I think he could be alive.” Draco says nothing. Nagini. If Neville was supposed to kill Nagini then maybe that sickening snake could also be a horcrux. No body was encouraging. Voldemort went back in forth from saying Harry had died to he had ran away like a coward. This meant that somehow, someway, Voldemort had not been able to kill Potter.</p><p>               “Neville tried to get to the snake, but he just couldn’t get close enough. Eventually, Ron and Hermione started screaming for people to head for the forest. I don’t know who got away. I assuming the unaccounted for are alive. So Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna, Ginny, George, maybe even a few others. I think Harry is alive too. Death Eaters wouldn’t let me see all the records though, so I don’t know.”</p><p>               Draco nodded. “Do you have any idea where they are? Could they still be in the forest?” Draco asks, trying to sound casual, but the words catch in his throat.</p><p>               Ernie shakes his head. “No. I have no idea. I doubt they stayed in the Forbidden Forest. I mean, it was searched extensively. They left a lot of people behind. And then? They abandon us. I don’t know. But no move in four years? It’s suspicious. Maybe they are dead.” Ernie’s tone is bitter, and Draco can hardly blame him. It must be hard for Ernie. Having no one left.</p><p>               Draco stands and runs his fingers through his hair. He feels hopeless. It seems that they are truly gone, no matter where he turns. Every lead is a dead end. It feels as though the world is dropping out from under him. If there is truly no one left, then it has to be up to him. He just isn’t sure he can do it.</p><p>               “Thanks Macmillan. I appreciate it. Really.” Draco says, his voice flat.</p><p>               Ernie nods. “Sorry. I can tell you want to find them. I do too. I just…don’t think anyone can. Maybe they just gave up.” Draco nods and heads for the door.</p><p>               He had been so sure. <em>So sure,</em> that Macmillan would know where Luna was. That he would know where Potter was. Draco could’ve left. He could’ve found them. He could’ve escaped. He wouldn’t have to be a Death Eater anymore. He could be someone different. Someone better. Now, he was well and truly trapped, his only chance at redemption an impossible task. He was alone.</p><p>               He doesn’t apparate once outside. He just keeps walking straight, hardly aware where he is going. After a few paces, when he has no idea where he is, and he can’t see the estate, he stops and leans against a tree. He pulls his sleeve up and glares at the bandages, before ripping them off.</p><p>               There is no point in hiding what he is any longer. He might as well except the truth. He’s a Death Eater. He needs to accept who he is and what he’s done. He needs to stop trying to be anything different. It’s simply too late to make the right choice. Had he only decided to do the right thing earlier, he could’ve helped them. Maybe things would have been different.</p><p>               He feels like he can’t breathe and there is only one person he wants to see right now. He needs her. He hates it. He hates what it could do to her and what it is already doing to him. He simply doesn’t care anymore. He hasn’t craved someone’s presence since Luna. Yet with Astoria it was an altogether different kind of need. It wasn’t just companionship and friendship like it had been with Luna. It was a desperate hunger that consumed all of his thoughts, clawing at every corner of his mind. He wasn’t altogether sure it was healthy.</p><p>               He never sees her twice a day, and somehow it feels risky to go to her now, especially after he left so abruptly today. It doesn’t matter. He has to. He simply can’t stop himself.</p><p>               He apparates to Spinner’s End and walks until he reaches the door. He barges in and can hear her yelp of surprise. She hadn’t been expecting him to come today, and his sudden arrival no doubt scared her.</p><p>               She is sitting on the couch. She had been reading a book, but he can’t tell which, as it now lays discarded at her feet. Her hair is slightly damp, and she must have just showered. Her eyes are dark and shining, as always, and he wonders how he could ever prefer another color again.</p><p>               Her eyes drop to his left arm and her eyes widen. He realizes that his sleeve is still pushed up and that his mark is barred. He hastily shoves it behind him and backs away. Coming here had been a mistake. He should have never shown up without being in control of his emotions. He is always in control. It’s what kept him alive this long. Now, he has allowed himself to spiral out of control. This situation has become destabilizing.</p><p>               She stands slowly and walks towards him. He thought he was backing towards the door until he hits a wall. He is too disoriented to know which direction he is heading. He gasps in surprise as the hard bookcase presses into his back. She is walking slowly, as though any sudden movement might startle him.</p><p>               “Draco.” she says softly, creeping closer to him. “What’s wrong?” she asks, her voice calm despite the fear he knows she must be feeling. She might think that they have been found out. He should say something, but when he tries the words don’t come out.</p><p>               When she reaches him, her hand goes to his left arm, grasping just under the mark, her thumb brushing up against black ink. The touch is gentle, and he feels his heartbeat speed up. She is the only person, besides Potter and his mother, who has seen the mark, and the only one to touch it. He has never been this vulnerable, and it scares him.</p><p>               He tries to shake her loose, but she doesn’t let go. He needs her to let go. He needs her to accept it just as he has. He thinks he will sob if he doesn’t get angry. So he summons all the anger he can find.</p><p>“Don’t you see?” he seethes. “Don’t you see what I am?” he says again, but he has already lost the anger he tried so hard to muster. “Don’t you see?” he whispers.</p><p>               “A mark does not make a man, Draco.” she says quietly. Her hand inching up the rest of his sleeve. Her fingers trace it, and when he looks at her he doesn’t see disgust. Her eyes are concerned, worried, perhaps a bit afraid, though he can tell it’s not him she fears. There is something else shining there, something that excites and terrifies him all in the same moment.</p><p>               “Do you want to know what I see? I see someone who is on the precipice of greatness. I do not see someone bound by fate and I see no Death Eater. I see someone who very soon will have to make a difficult choice. I have every confidence he will make the right one.” Astoria looks up at him, every word full of hope and faith that he isn’t sure he deserves.</p><p>               She uses the hand that is resting on his mark to pull him close. She doesn’t kiss him, but she pulls him down until his forehead rests on hers. When he presses his lips to hers, he doesn’t feel trapped. He feels free. He feels like he could do anything. And for a moment, it isn’t just a feeling. He believes it.  </p><p>               She lets him take the lead, and he moves his lips against hers slowly, feeling the soft press of her lips and swallowing the small gasp she makes when he deepens the kiss.</p><p>               This. This is what he came here for and this is what he needed. He will never understand how just one kiss can calm the roaring in his brain. Except, he couldn’t say he felt calm. He felt himself get desperate for more, desperate for the thing that helps him feel so alive.</p><p>               Every breath he takes is breathing her in, the scent of jasmine filling his nostrils and he wraps his arms around her, pulling her flush against him. For the first time since he has known himself, he feels completely liberated. Her hand is still resting against his left arm, and she slides it up until her arms are wrapped around his neck. She seems to sink into him, and he leans back against the bookshelf, supporting her weight.</p><p>               She pulls back and he groans softly, making her cheeks heat up. She moves her hand to brush his hair back. She lets her fingers trail down his cheek, until they flutter around his jawbone.</p><p>               “Why did you come here?” she whispers. “Is everything okay?” she murmurs, her hand trailing down his chest, resting on the hem of his shirt, before sliding away, as if she couldn’t quite muster the courage to be so bold.</p><p>               “I’m okay now. I’ve had a rough day.” he murmurs. She nods and looks away.</p><p>“Is that why you kiss me? To forget?” she asks, voice barely trembling. He doesn’t say anything. He is still reveling in the feeling of baring what he sees as the very worst part of himself, and her not turning away. He barely registers her question, as he tightens his grip around her.</p><p>“Am I a distraction?” she whispers, still letting him pull her closer.</p><p>“No.” he says, voice low. “You do distract me from things I’d rather not think about. But that’s not all.” he says, and he lets a hand stray into her dark locks, relishing in the smooth, thick feel of them between his fingers. Her head leans into the palm of his head. Despite the gravity of her questions, she doesn’t pull away.</p><p>“Astoria.” he says her name, like a prayer, begging her to allow him to kiss her again. She tilts her head back, allowing his lips to catch hers again. He can feel her open her mouth, allowing him entrance, but he pulls back. He can do better. In this moment, he feels he can do better.</p><p>“I’ve never shown my mark to anyone. No one knows about my father. No one knows how I feel about the Dark Lord.” he says. Her eyes widen, and her mouth opens in slight surprise.</p><p>“That’s what you are to me. Someone who I can show myself to and not be afraid. I didn’t have that.” he chokes out. It is not the most eloquent speech, but it’s the best he’s ever done. He isn’t adept at expressing feelings, but she smiles at him softly and her eyes light up, bewitching and burning.</p><p>“I don’t do meaningless kisses.” he says, a slight smirk playing on his lips. It hadn’t been true before, but it is true now. True for her. He can feel her relax fully into his embrace again, and when he pushes her back toward the couch, she fists her hands in his shirt, her eyes widening.</p><p>Although he has done it before, he can’t ignore the excitement as he pushes her down into couch, before settling on top of her. He buries his head into the crook of her neck, sucking where the curve of her neck meets her shoulder blade. Her grip tightens and she gasps his name. He wants her to keep saying it, and so he moves his lips to a place just behind her ear, her hair falling into his face, perfuming the air around him.</p><p>Her hands brush against the hem of his turtleneck.  He pulls back and slips off the sweater. Her eyes widen and her cheeks heat up. Her eyes are lidded before she looks away shyly.  He leans down, his knees on either side of her waist. He grabs her chin gently, but firmly, and guides her eyes back to him. When she’s looking at him again, he kisses her deeply, biting her lip to gain entrance.</p><p>After several long minutes, while her hands trail up and down his chest, occasionally travelling up his shoulders to slide into his hair, he pulls away. Her eyes are wide, and her mouth is swollen. Her hair is slightly tangled, and he runs his fingers through it, easing the tangles.</p><p>He won’t sleep with her. He told himself he wouldn’t do that. It wouldn’t be fair to her. He won’t do it until she’s safe. Until they’re safe.</p><p>He gets up and pulls his sweater back on. When he looks at her, he can tell she thinks she’s done something wrong, that she has caused him to leave. He leans down and kisses her softly, reassuringly.</p><p>“Will you stay?” she asks him.</p><p>“I can’t.” he wants to, but he isn’t sure if he can control himself. She looks down and though she tries to hide it, he can tell she is hurt by his refusal. He stops and kicks of his shoes. He sighs and uses his wand to elongate the armchair, until it is nearly a second couch. He collapses on it, ignoring Astoria’s raised eyebrows.</p><p>He waits until he can hear her heavy breathing before he drifts off himself.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0038"><h2>38. Astoria</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sunlight is steaming through the window when Astoria wakes. Her back is stiff and her neck aches. She really should stop sleeping on the narrow couch, but she just can’t bring herself to sleep in a dead man’s bed.  </p><p>               She turns her head to find startling grey eyes watching her, a slow, lazy smirk moving across Draco’s face as she caught him staring.</p><p>               Last night, when she heard the door bang open she had been frightened. When he had come in, his eyes were wild, flashing, reminding her of a cornered animal. There had been something dangerous in his expression, though she could sense he would not hurt her.</p><p>               She had seen the mark, it’s dark coloring such a contrast to the pale skin beneath it. She had seen it often on others. Usually it made her grimace. On him, it somehow didn’t seem so bad. Others showed it off. They were terrifying because of who they were, not because of the mark on their skin. Draco didn’t quite seem to live up to the mark’s terrible reputation, something she was infinitely glad of. It was hard to be scared of him.</p><p>               His sleeve is slightly pulled up, which must have happened in his sleep. She can see the bottom of the mark, peeking out. He sees her looking, and his smirk fades. He moves to shift his sleeve down. The space between them is small, so Astoria can reach across and catch his hand before he can, running her thumb across the knuckles, placing a small kiss on the palm of his hand.</p><p>               His breath hitches. She tugs his hand toward her, and he gets up from the couch before laying next to her on the cramped couch. They are pressed together.</p><p>               “You don’t have to tell me, but what was wrong last night?” she asks softly, trying to keep her voice light, so he wouldn’t be pressured to talk about something he wouldn’t want to. She guesses it has to do with the story she told him. She senses it could be something else as well.</p><p>               “I talked to Macmillan.” Draco says, surprising her.</p><p>               “Pansy?” she asks.</p><p>               “No. Ernie.” Draco says, his lip quirking at her question.</p><p>               “Oh.” Astoria says. She has met Ernie, at Pansy’s wedding. He is hardly someone to cause anyone distress.</p><p>               “He told me about the battle. Some information that has to do with the stories. He also told me that he doesn’t know where the Order is hiding.” Draco says. Astoria’s brow furrows. She isn’t quite sure what some of the stories mean, but it worries her that it had Draco so upset. She knows he is being asked to do something incredibly hard. She just doesn’t know what. Whatever it is, he isn’t supposed to tell her.</p><p>               Before she can get too anxious, she traces the lines of Draco’s palms focusing on where the callouses are, and where the skin is smooth.</p><p>               “The Order?” she questions, as Draco flexes his hand at her touch.</p><p>               “That’s where I’ve been. It was why I was gone. I was looking for them.” Draco admits.  </p><p>               “Why?” Astoria whispers, half afraid he was trying to turn them in.</p><p>               “I wanted to join them.” he says, so quietly she can barely hear it. Astoria finds his eyes and sees they are watching closely, waiting for her reaction.</p><p>               “I see. I’m sorry you can’t find them. I wish you could. I wish I could.”  Astoria confesses.</p><p>               “Me too. At this point, I’d need a deluminator. But I’m not likely to find one of those.” Draco sighs.</p><p>               “What is that?” Astoria asked. She had never heard of such a thing before.</p><p>               “It’s a device. Apparently it can help you find someone, but it’s more common use is light. When you click it, it takes out the surrounding lights, and when you click it again, it returns the lights to the area.” Draco explains.</p><p>               Astoria’s eyes widen. She leaps up and with slight difficulty untangles herself from Draco. He reaches out to try to grab her, to steady her, a surprised “Astoria!” leaving his mouth. She races up the stairs, and she hears him call out after her again. When she reaches the bedroom, she yanks the nightstand drawer open to find the device just where she had left it.</p><p>               She hears Draco come up the stairs behind her, grumbling. “Bloody hell, Astoria. What is wrong with you?” When he gets to the door, he leans against the door frame. “Astoria. Is there a reason you were dying to race to the bedroom?” His eyebrows are raised. Astoria fights her blush as she holds up the little silver device.</p><p>               She clicks it, and a ball of light floats to a streetlamp outside. Draco’s eyes widen and he crosses the room. “Where did you get that?” he breathes, taking it from her hand, bringing it closer to his face.</p><p>               “It was here in the drawer. How in the world are you going to use it to find the Order?” she asks. Draco gives her a shrug and turns it in his hand. He clicks it and sees a glowing ball of light. There is whispering, snatches of conversation that move in and out. He has trouble telling what they are saying, but the ball of light seems to move dreamily down the stairs. He follows it, gesturing for Astoria to come along.</p><p>               Astoria watches in fascination. The deluminator never did any of that for her. When it gets to the door, Draco opens it and watches as the light floats out into the street. Draco doesn’t move and clicks the deluminator again. The ball of light zooms back into the device.</p><p>               Draco clicks it again, and the light returns, whispering resuming. He clicks it again and watches the light disappear. “I’ve got to follow it. I’ve got to find them.” he whispers. Astoria tries not to let her heart catch at the way he says “I.”</p><p>               Draco turns to her. “I’ll need a couple days. To get us supplies and get you a wand. Plus, I have a few things we need to collect before we go. We should probably finish the stories too. That gives us six days, counting today.”</p><p>               Astoria smiles and says “Us?” Draco turns to her and scoffs, rolling his eyes.</p><p>               “I can’t exactly leave you here, can I?” Draco says, smirking. Not exactly “Yes, of course Astoria. I can’t imagine going anywhere without you.” If Astoria is honest with herself, she rather prefers it this way. It wouldn’t feel as real if he said things like that. It wouldn’t be him.</p><p>               The way he takes her hand and squeezes it before dropping it is enough.</p><p>               “I’ll need to tell you today’s story then, so you can get started.” Astoria says. Draco frowns and nods.</p><p>               “Look. This story is difficult too.” Astoria warns.</p><p>               Draco nods. “The stories always seem to ruin my mood.” Draco quips.</p><p>               Astoria sighs. “Listen, don’t just leave okay? If you need some time alone that’s fine. Just say that. Leaving so suddenly, it bothers me.” Draco looks at her for a moment, before nodding and looking down at his shoes.</p><p>               “Whatever it is, you don’t need to run. I’ll be here.” Astoria murmurs softly. Draco stares at her, before leaning in and kissing her softly. He pulls her to the couch and tugs her down next to him.</p><p>               “What’s the story?” Draco asks, a sense of foreboding has entered the room, and Astoria runs her hands on the hem of her robes.</p><p>               “The Prince’s Task”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0039"><h2>39. Draco</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Astoria has moved slightly away from him, putting distance between them. Her left hand is pulling on the hem of her sleeve rubbing the fabric between two fingers. It must be a bad one. He assumed “The Prince’s Task” would be about the horcruxes he was supposed to kill. But from Astoria’s expression, he guessed it wouldn’t be.</p><p>               More and more of the stories seemed to be telling him something that had very little to do with the Dark Lord. They seemed in their essence trying to convince him, or to plant a seed of defiance. Draco wasn’t sure he appreciated that.</p><p>               Astoria stands and moves to the kitchen. Draco sighs. Stalling. He supposed given his reaction last time, she hates to be bearer of bad news. He wasn’t exactly in a good mood last night either. He knows she likely is hesitant to add salt to the wound.</p><p>               She is taking sips of her potions. She takes one last sip from a dark blue one, before placing them back in the cabinet. She grabs a dusty glass from a cabinet, rinses it off, and then fills it with water. She turns around slowly after taking a few sips.</p><p>               “Do you want a glass of water?” she asks. Draco stares at her expressionlessly.</p><p>               “Do you want to stop stalling?” Draco asks flatly.</p><p>               “I was only taking my potions. You wouldn’t want me to not take them. It makes me cranky.” Astoria replies evenly, a small smile quirking her lips.</p><p>               “Well, now you’ve taken them. What shall you do now? What else can you think of to put it off?“ Draco teases.</p><p>               Astoria doesn’t say anything, just tosses him a half-hearted glare as she fills up a second glass.</p><p>               “I suppose you’ll have to find a way to divert my attention.” Draco suggests, delighting in the blush spreading across her cheeks as she almost drops the second glass of water.</p><p>               Astoria walks over and holds out the glass of water, but Draco doesn’t take it. He is still far to busy smirking up at her. She huffs and places it on the table.  Draco snakes his arm around her waist and pulls her down on top of him.  She yelps in surprise and sits up quickly. Draco leans back against the arm rest and grabs the water taking a long sip.</p><p>               “Tell me the story.” Draco prods. Astoria sighs and leans back and rests her back against his knees. She is fiddling with the silver belt on her robes when she opens her mouth to begin.</p><p>               “The Puppet King’s family had fallen from the Devourer’s favor. With two mistakes lingering over their heads, the Devourer had to find a way to punish the king. However, as with most of the Devourer’s punishments, it had little to do with the person who had wronged him, and everything to do with innocents caught in the crosshairs. The Puppet King had already promised his son to the Devourer, and the Devourer is always one to call in debts.”</p><p>               Ah. So it was this one. Astoria had her back to him, likely trying to give him some semblance of privacy. He appreciated this. He didn’t want anyone to know this story, although he knew it was far more widely acknowledged then he would like. He preferred when people pretended that they didn’t know about it.</p><p>               “The Devourer gave the Prince a task, claiming it was a chance to reclaim glory, and restore the favor his family had lost. However, quest for glory it was not. Rather, a pointless endeavor, in which the Prince was set up to fail. For he was tasked with dueling the greatest and most powerful being in all the land, the Preceptor.”</p><p>               “What’s a preceptor?” asked Draco, though he could likely guess.</p><p>               “It’s a teacher. More so, an instructor.” Astoria explains. Draco doesn’t respond, not feeling in a very talkative mood. “I had to look it up.” Astoria murmurs, giving him a soft laugh. When he is still silent, she continues.</p><p>               “The very idea that the Prince could defeat the Preceptor was a farce. Nevertheless, the Prince was sent forth into the world, with the burden to kill, still a child and destined to become a murderer or die trying. Should he fail and survive? The Devourer would make quick work of the Prince, and his family. The Prince would need a plan, and so three he devised.”</p><p>               Draco has his head tilted back and eyes closed. He takes sharp breath, trying to prepare himself. The idea of running is appealing to him more by the second. He said he wouldn’t but he would rather talk about anything other than this. He can feel Astoria’s hand reach back and grasp his own, slightly hesitant. He grips it tightly, and she squeezes back.</p><p>               “Hey, Draco?” she whispers, almost pleadingly. He manages to choke out some sound, signaling he was listening.</p><p>               “When we finish this, I’ll tell you a good story.” she says, almost desperately. He wants to laugh. It’s a rather pathetic offer, and yet somehow, it succeeds in cheering him up.</p><p>               He still hasn’t said anything. And so Astoria whispers, “Something to look forward to?” Draco leans forward and rests his forehead in the crook of her neck.</p><p>               “Alright.” He murmurs against her skin.</p><p>               “It would turn out the Prince was remarkably bad at murder.” Astoria said simply, and Draco chokes out a startled laugh.</p><p>               “The Prince, although at first excited about the prospect of bringing glory to his family once again, failed to recognize the challenges of assassination. When it came down to it, the Prince discovered what he assumed to be a terrible weakness. He lacked the strength to kill. He knew, if he faced the Preceptor himself, he would not be able to carry out his task, no matter how dire the circumstances may be.”</p><p>               Draco let out a shuddering breath and Astoria tightens her grip on him.</p><p>               “The Prince knew he would have to find a way to murder indirectly and wished to remove himself as far from the process as possible. Two times he tried, unsuccessfully. Each plan so foolish, and overly-complicated, one almost wonders if they were ever supposed to work at all.”</p><p>               Draco can feel white-hot shame course through him. This is far too personal, and he really isn’t ready for anyone to know about this.</p><p>He supposes that neither the poison nor the necklace had been the most ingenious of plans, but it appears his godfather was right. He hadn’t wanted to kill, and so he decided saddling Katie Bell or Slughorn with the task would be better. However, the plans had failed. Rather spectacularly. He felt rather ashamed. His cowardice was more than embarrassing. And to make matter worse, It had hurt Bell and Weasley. Had he been man enough to do the job himself, they wouldn’t have gotten caught in the crossfire, and they wouldn’t have almost died.</p><p>“However, the Prince was far cleverer than anyone gave him credit for. He was able to fix something thought unfixable, and do something thought impossible by even the Preceptor himself. If he could not kill the Preceptor, he would have to bring in someone who could. And so, through many hours of impressive work and by unforeseen talent, the Prince was able to create a pathway straight to the Preceptor’s refuge.”</p><p>Snape seemed to be leaving out the more arduous details of the story. Draco guessed it was because no one knew this story better then him. That brought the question, why tell it? Was there something about that night that he missed?</p><p>“When the time came, the Price went to face the Preceptor, finding him greatly weakened. The Preceptor could barely stand, and it would be quick work for the Prince. The Prince removed the Preceptor of his weapon, disarming him. The Prince would do well to remember that is was he who first disarmed the Preceptor; he and no one else.”</p><p>Okay, so he needed to know he disarmed a weak old man? He already knew that. Like that mattered.</p><p>“The Prince would do well to keep that buried. He must use all the occlumency he knows, to never let a soul discover he disarmed the Preceptor.”</p><p>Draco finds this odd. Extremely so. He had no idea why a simple “Expelliarmus” would warrant this much secrecy.</p><p>“The Prince, once disarming the Preceptor, found himself unable to deliver the final blow. He stalled, and boasted of his successes, confessed his failures. However, kill he did not. And, when the Preceptor offered him a choice, a way to escape the Devourer, the Prince lowered his weapon. He was going to accept, but before he could, the Devourers followers arrived, and killed the Preceptor.”</p><p>Draco shifts uncomfortably, wishing he had some firewhiskey right about now. Yes, he hadn’t been able to kill. That had caused him and his family so much trouble. It had cost them.</p><p>“The Prince would do well to remember, that while the protection offered that night is gone, as is the man who offered it, the choice still stands. The Prince cannot undo what has been done, but he can still make the right choice, for it is not too late.”</p><p>Draco moves back from Astoria quickly, and gets up. She looks at him then, her dark eyes moving to focus on him, seemingly to say, “You promised.”</p><p>“You knew.” Draco accuses, poison creeping into his tone, at his sudden realization.</p><p>“Knew what?” Astoria asked, her brow furrowing, surprise coloring her features.</p><p>“You knew that I couldn’t kill. You knew that day I wasn’t going to kill you!” he shouts. He is in disbelief. Here he was, worrying about this for days, when she knew all along how weak he was. She knew, and perhaps even took advantage of that. Even he can differentiate the power of being able to choose not to kill, versus not being powerful enough, having the choice already made for you.</p><p>“I knew that Draco, the boy, could not kill. I had no idea what you were capable of now.” Astoria defends, confusion etched on her face.</p><p>“Yes. Well, I come from a long line of killers, you know. I should be able to. But, as you well know, I can’t!” Draco fumes. Did she have any idea how humiliating it was? It wasn’t like he wanted to be a killer. But not being able to? Not being able to cast the curse? It was that which was frustrating. It was the lack of choice. That feeling of being weak and trapped which seemed to follow him wherever he goes.</p><p>Astoria says nothing, but she seems to recognize the problem, because she takes a step forward, her brow smoothing in understanding. Draco moves back, but she catches his wrist.</p><p>“I have never considered the inability to kill a weakness, Draco. It is its own kind of strength.” she says earnestly. Draco looks at her for a moment. She is staring at him, and she looks afraid. Afraid that he will leave. The unfairness of the situation strikes him. If he leaves, she will have no one to depend on, no where to go. It really is a cruel situation.</p><p>He takes in her words. He wants to believe them. Her finger grazes the pulse point in his wrist, as though sensing his erratic heartbeat. “Draco. I have never thought you weak.” she whispers. She tugs him closer to her.</p><p>“Why do you say things like that?” Draco asks, colder than he intends the question to sound.</p><p>“What do you mean?” Astoria asks, genuine confusion crossing her features.</p><p>“Are you afraid? Do you even mean it? Or do you just want to save your own neck!” Draco spits.</p><p>“Draco, I haven’t thought you were going to kill me for awhile now. And even when I did, I knew that you weren’t there by your own volition. That’s not why—”</p><p>“Really? I may not be able kill you. But I could leave you. I could run right now. Decide you weren’t worth the trouble. Aren’t you afraid of that?” Draco says dangerously.</p><p>Astoria drops his wrist as if he burned her. Betrayal creeps into her eyes, and they become surprisingly cold.</p><p>“I wasn’t afraid. It hadn’t even crossed my mind. I suppose I am now, though.”</p><p>Draco is silent but he can already feel the beginnings of regret creeping in. So, she had trusted him. She probably would not now though.</p><p>“I’m not like you, Draco. I mean what I say. I don’t say things just to hurt people. I don’t say things because I’m scared, or angry, or because I feel alone. I don’t lash out. Out of the two of us? You’re the one who doesn’t say what they mean.” Astoria says, her voice quiet in it’s anger.</p><p>Draco sighs heavily. Astoria is staring him down, but she turns away soon after. Tears are starting to form and he can see she’s trying to hold them back.</p><p>“I’m sorry.” he whispers, lightly, stepping toward her.</p><p>“It’s fine.” Astoria says, but she still won’t look at him.</p><p>               “You’re right. I…say things I don’t mean. I project. I get defensive. I take out what I’m feeling on other people.” Draco says, hating how pleading his voice has just become.</p><p>               Astoria purses her lips, but doesn’t say anything. Draco steps toward her again, until he is close enough to touch her. He holds out his hand to her, but she doesn’t take it.</p><p>               “Look. I don’t have a lot of people in my life, who I care about. I’m not…” he hesitates, searching for the right words, and coming up empty.</p><p>               He tries again. “I’m not close with many people. So, I don’t have as much practice in dealing with people who care. Not many do. No one says anything or does anything without expecting something in return.” he murmurs softly. It sounds pathetic and whiny to his own ears. It is completely different then anything he would ever admit or say. Astoria has a way of making him say things he normally wouldn’t.</p><p>               “I also don’t really deal with what I feel. I usually use occlumency, to shove it all down. I’ve used it for so long, I don’t know how to operate without it. I’m trying, okay? I know I’m not doing a good job, but <em>fuck</em>. I’m trying.” He is pleading now, his tone becoming desperate. He hates it. He can’t stand it, and it takes everything to fight the new anger blooming in his chest.</p><p>               Astoria is looking at him now, and her expression isn’t easy to read. She steps toward him and reaches for his hand. “Draco, I—”</p><p>               “And listen,” Draco says, cutting her off. “I’ve always shouted like that, okay? I’m really bad at not doing it. I’m going to struggle with it. And, so. I just feel like you should know that.” Draco finishes lamely.</p><p>               Astoria gives him a look, clearly annoyed at being interrupted. Draco gives her an apologetic look.</p><p>               “Okay. Listen. I appreciate the apology. I know this is hard for you, and thank you for telling me that. It’s not easy for you to admit you’re wrong. And you did.” Draco wants to jump in and say something, but he doesn’t.</p><p>               “I understand that you regret doing it, and I do think you are working on it. But, I’m not just going to let you speak to me like that without saying something.” Astoria replies evenly.</p><p>               Draco can feel his heart sink. He really wishes he didn’t always do this. It’s funny how he always considers this after the fact, and never while he is spewing the first insults that come to his head.</p><p>               Astoria smiles, which Draco doesn’t think is very fitting considering the situation. “Draco. Just because I hold you accountable doesn’t mean I’m ditching you.” She offers.</p><p>               Oh.</p><p>“This is a difficult situation. I think some of the concerns, although I think you could’ve said them better, were valid. I can see how you may think I say certain things and do certain things to get myself out of trouble. I can assure you that isn’t the case.” She says evenly.</p><p>               How does she do that? It’s a little annoying how well she can express herself. She rarely seems to lose control, and everything she says is so even and <em>reasonable</em>.</p><p>               She takes his hand and pulls him to the couch. “I promised you a good story.” she offers.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0040"><h2>40. Astoria</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>i realized that i copied and pasted the chapter like five times in this one document by accident. I just fixed it. sorry if it was a mess.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Astoria has decided to forgive Draco. She can tell he’s trying, and as always, she was more impressed by effort than success. Honestly, the situation is hardly fair. He seems to be a private person. And it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that she knows far more about him than he would like. He could do with some grace.</p><p>               She is sitting on the couch, legs crossed under her and she is facing Draco who is turned slightly toward her.</p><p>               “A good story?” Draco teasingly asks, although Astoria can still hear lingering apprehension in his tone from earlier.</p><p>               “Well, yes. A good story. In my opinion, anyway.” Astoria says. Draco nods, scooting back slightly as though to maintain a respectful distance.</p><p>               “I want a story about you.” Draco announces. Astoria feels slightly nervous. She had planned to tell one out of a book she had read.</p><p>               “It’s only fair. All the stories you tell are about me. I want to hear one about you for a change.” Draco leans against the armrest opposite her and props his feet up, curling his legs so he doesn’t touch her. Astoria wants to roll her eyes.</p><p>               “Fine. Although, I’m not sure how interesting I’ll be to you.” Astoria teases.</p><p>               Draco’s eyes flash. “I’m sure you can entertain me.” Draco says, slyly. Astoria rolls her eyes playfully, praying she doesn’t look too flustered.</p><p>               “Hmm. Let me think.” Astoria racks her brain for a story interesting enough to tell. Something useful.</p><p>               “I’m waiting.” Draco drawls.</p><p>               “Okay, okay!” I’ll tell you about the time I found the Black Market.” Astoria whispers, her tone mischievous.</p><p>               “The what?” Draco asks, his brow furrowing. Astoria tires to suppress her satisfaction of knowing something that Draco did not.</p><p>               “The Black Market. It’s right here in Britain. Right under all the Death Eaters noses.” Astoria says, glee creeping into her face. “I found it all on my own, you know. Which is extremely tricky to do.” Astoria says.</p><p>               “How come I didn’t know about it?” Draco asks.</p><p>               “Well, for one, you’ve been gone. It’s a fairly recent thing, only a little over two years old. Plus, no offense, I don’t think they would be eager for you to know they exist.” Astoria adds with a wry smile.</p><p>               “Well, what exactly is it?” Draco asks, leaning forward in interest. Astoria tries to hide her excitement. She hadn’t been able to tell anyone about this, and she had been dying to tell someone.</p><p>               “It’s exactly what it sounds like. It’s a black market. It’s sort of like that old shop, Borgin and Burkes, but it’s huge. It’s underground, in a vast cavern, probably bigger than Hogwarts, honestly. It looks like an underground city.” Draco raises his eyebrows.</p><p>               “So, they sell dark artefacts?” Draco asks.</p><p>               “Yes, they do. Although that’s really not what it’s there for. You can get plenty of dark artefacts legally anyway, now. They primarily deal in things the Dark Lord has banned. Wizarding history books, you know, ones that tell the truth about the first and second wizarding wars. Muggle things like books, clothes, appliances, jewelry. They sell unregistered wands, potions ingredients, defense spells and artefacts for protection against dark magic. If the Dark Lord’s banned it, they got it.” Astoria is talking fast, and she tries to keep her voice level. She doesn’t want to seem too excited. Draco is smiling at her, which she finds sort of odd. She doesn’t think she’d said anything particularly amusing. She’s about to ask him about it, when he interrupts her.</p><p>               “How did you find it? You said it was difficult?” Draco asks.</p><p>               “Yes. Extremely so. The first part was getting past Daphne.” Astoria jokes.</p><p>               “Daphne?”</p><p>               “Yes. If she had her way, I’d never leave the house without her. So, if I was going to find it, I had to go when she would be at her own house, you know, with Nott.” Astoria says, false annoyance in her voice. Daphne could be suffocating, but she was also her best friend in the whole world. Astoria had been so worried that once she got married, she would never see her again. But Daphne had been there so often, you wouldn’t even know things had changed.</p><p>               “I had heard my dad talking about it, with someone who works for him. He wanted to know about the sort of creatures one could find at the market. I didn’t catch the rest of what they had said, but I was fascinated, and I was determined to find it.” Astoria continued. Draco looked like he was about to ask something, but then thought better of it.</p><p>               “I didn’t know where it was, so I started keeping my ear to the ground, listening for any lead or snatch of conversation that might lead me to it. It took me nearly a year to find it. After months of trying, I finally heard something in Flourish and Blots. There were these two men, and I noticed that while at first, they didn’t attract a lot of attention, they seemed nervous. They kept checking over their shoulder what seemed like every two seconds. Not necessarily suspicious, but enough to catch my attention.” Astoria is leaning forward in her excitement, pride seeping into her voice. She notices her tone, and tries to sound slightly more blasé about the subject. Draco seems to notice her change in tone and smirks in amusement.</p><p>               “So, what? These men were able to tell you where the market was?” Draco asks.</p><p>               “Well, they didn’t tell me, but I followed them to the back of the store. I had to stay a good bit away, or they would have been suspicious. I was able to crouch behind a shelf and get close enough to make out a few snatches of conversation. They were whispering in really low voices and picking up different books. They seemed displeased and kept muttering about how they couldn’t find what they were looking for. Then, one of them said “we should try the market.” It was so soft, I could barely hear it. I was half convinced I had imagined it. They kept talking, almost arguing. The other one didn’t want to risk it. I got the idea that he didn’t really think what they were looking for was important enough. Finally, I did hear a location. I heard one of them mutter “Tinworth.”  It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. They left pretty quickly, after that.”</p><p>               “What a sneak.” Draco teases. Astoria grins.</p><p> “Luckily, Daphne was at Madame Malkins getting <em>another</em> dress, so I was alone. She would have totally blown my cover.” Astoria joked.</p><p>“I doubt she approved of a sudden impromptu trip to Tinworth.” Draco remarks.</p><p>“Yeah. I tried to pass it off as a girl’s trip to Wimbourne with Stretton, but she didn’t buy it. Well, she did. But she insisted she come along. I tried to tell her it would make Nott mad, but she didn’t seem to care.”</p><p>“So, what, did you convince her to let you go?” Draco asks. Astoria smiles guiltily.</p><p>“Um. Not exactly. I just sort of, left. I packed a bag, left a note saying I’d be in Wimbourne, and then went to Tinworth.” She did feel bad. Daphne had been a wreck all that week.</p><p>“Merlin, Greengrass. Who knew you were such a sneaky little liar?”</p><p>“I had to! I don’t lie unless its necessary.” Astoria defends, cringing at how weak it sounds. Draco doesn’t seem to mind, because he laughs.</p><p>“That’s comforting.” he teases. Astoria rolls her eyes.</p><p>“Anyway, I get to Tinworth, and for the first three days, I don’t find anything. I mean, it seemed like a normal wizarding community. Sure, it was grim. They all are nowadays, but nothing that indicated any sort of illegal underground city.”</p><p>“Okay, so how did you find it?” Draco questions.</p><p>“Well, I decided I would just have to ask someone.” Astoria says.</p><p>“Astoria.” Draco scolds sharply. “Do you have any idea how stupid that was? What if you had asked the wrong person?” Astoria shifts uncomfortably.</p><p>“Look. I know it seemed stupid, but I didn’t ask just anyone, okay? I was smart. I asked someone who looked like they were trustworthy.” Astoria defends.</p><p>“Looked trustworthy? Astoria, you’re talking about an illegal market built on the premise of deception. I don’t think people who safeguard it’s secrets could be classified as trustworthy.” Draco retorts.</p><p>“Well, they didn’t tattle on me, and they helped me find it. So, clearly, I’m right and your wrong.” Astoria points out. Draco rolls his eyes but seems to concede.</p><p>“Alright, alright. Go on.” he grumbles.</p><p>“Anyway, I saw this woman in a pub, who was reading a book. It was Bathilda Bagshot’s <em>History of Magic</em>. Which I knew for a fact had been outlawed.”</p><p>“She was just reading it out in the open?” Draco wonders.</p><p>“I know. I thought it was odd at first to, but the people in Tinworth aren’t as strict as in London. They barely seem to care. I don’t know who is in charge of security there, but they are pretty lackadaisical.”</p><p>“So, you assumed she must have gotten from the market?” Draco asks.</p><p>“Exactly. That’s why I figured she would be safe to ask. She wouldn’t have ratted herself out, so why me?” Draco frowns but nods.</p><p>“At first she looked kind of scared. She could tell I wasn’t a local, and while lots of outsiders visit Tinworth, because of the market, they usually already know where it is. So, convincing her to tell me took some work, but finally I was able to persuade her to share the location. Of course, all she gave me were coordinates. She wouldn’t write them down, so I had to memorize them. 50°03’00” N and 5°35,23” W.”</p><p>Astoria is watching Draco and he is listening intently. It’s a new feeling for someone to pay this much attention to what she is saying.  </p><p>“So, using a simple navigation spell, I was able to find the location. It took me right up to the coast. And, there was nothing. Just rocks, sand, and water.”</p><p>“She lied,” Draco guesses.</p><p>“Not exactly. I didn’t know it then, but it’s tradition to not just give the entrance away. Being able to find it, is a test of sorts. If you aren’t smart enough to find it, then you probably aren’t smart enough to keep it a secret.” </p><p>“You’re breaking tradition, then. You shouldn’t be telling me how to get to it.” Draco says, smirking.</p><p>“I trust you.” Astoria replies evenly. Draco’s eyes widen and he looks slightly surprised. He moves into the very far corner of the couch, even farther away from her than he already was. The couch isn’t very big; its really more of a loveseat. She can reach across the space and catch his hand. She gives it a brief squeeze, before letting go. Best not to push him.</p><p>“Anyway, I start looking around at all the rocks, and in the corner of one, in very small script, is the phrase “Quid quaeritis mendacium aquarum profundo.”</p><p>“What you seek lies in the depths of water.” Draco breathes. Astoria nods. All the people they knew could speak Latin. It was only proper.</p><p>“Yes. So, I start to wade into the water. Which, suddenly, was freezing. It was so cold. Suspiciously cold, even. It was September you see, so it should have been cold, but not unbearably so. I swore it must have been water from the artic. I wish I could describe to you the kind of cold it was. I’ve never felt anything like it.” Astoria can feel phantom icy waves and shudders with imagined cold.  </p><p>“Like dementors?” Draco asks, his voice barely above a whisper.</p><p>“Worse.” Astoria murmurs.</p><p>“Well, I suppose the temperature is worse. A dementor is a different kind of cold.” Astoria adds as an afterthought.</p><p>“The cold was startling, gripping, all consuming. It almost made me forget why I was there. You would have to be determined to stay in there even a second. It would deter even the most avid searchers. And yet, I kept wading further. It was awful. I thought I would surely die. The cold water just kept creeping up. My ankles, my thighs my waist. And the waves, they would just douse me. I thought I would never be warm again.”</p><p>“How did you know to keep going? I would have half convinced myself that I was crazy. I mean, to keep wading in? Did you even know you would find it there?” Draco asks her.</p><p>“I could just feel it. I just knew it was the right thing to do. Besides, the fact that it was that cold indicated some sort of enchantment. I made it until the water reached my chest, when this current came. It was incredibly strong. I got scared then. It kept pulling me farther and farther from the shore. I must admit, I’m probably not at the height of physical strength, but I don’t anyone could fight it. Nothing would work. No spell, no counter curse.”</p><p>“A story where you almost drown doesn’t seem like a good one.” Draco says, his eyes scanning the floorboards. He hasn’t looked at her in a few minutes. Astoria doesn’t take it personally. If there is one thing she’s learned about Draco, is that nothing is hardly ever personal.</p><p>“Well, I say a story isn’t good unless there are some challenges to overcome. Otherwise its boring. As long as it ends well.” Astoria reasons.</p><p>“Hm.” Astoria tries not to smile.</p><p>“You interrupt a lot, you know.” Astoria teases.</p><p>Draco doesn’t say anything. After a few minutes he clears his throat, signaling her to continue.</p><p>“The current was pulling me out. But the scariest part was when it pulled me down. It was so dark and cold that my limbs felt frozen. I was holding my breath, but eventually, I opened my mouth and inhaled the water. When I did, though, I felt different. It was as if the water was spreading through me. It was the strangest sensation. I was able to breath. The water was still cold, but not as cold as before.”</p><p>Draco furrows his brown, and she can practically see him trying to discern what sort of ward was protecting this market. It was a strange combination of magic.</p><p>“There was voice in my head. It sort of seemed to come through the water. It gave me a riddle.”</p><p>Draco looked at her like she was crazy. “A riddle? How did you know it was real? It wasn’t just a hallucination at death’s door?”</p><p>“Well, I didn’t really. But I was dying anyway, so who cared.”</p><p>Draco laughs at that, his eyes flicking up to meet hers. Astoria holds his gaze giving him a quiet smile. He’s almost with her again. She just has to keep going.</p><p>“The voice said ‘When I’m yours, you want to share me. When you share me, I’m no longer yours.’ Then, the cold returned, and the water filled my lungs again, chocking me. I wracked my brain, trying to think of the answer. It wasn’t until I was sure I was a goner, when it came to me. I mouthed the answer, and sure enough, I could breathe again, and the water became very warm.”</p><p>“What was the answer?” Draco asks.</p><p>“You don’t know?” Astoria asks, playfully.</p><p> Draco closes his eyes in thought for a moment. After a beat of silence, he opens them, grinning. “A secret. I suppose it was warning you what would happen if you told <em>their</em> secret.” Astoria nods, giving him a soft smile.</p><p>“There. I knew you were more then a pretty face.” Astoria teases. The look he gives her is anything but teasing, and it makes her blush. Again. She needs to get it under control. It is beyond embarrassing.</p><p>               “Anyway, the current pulls me farther down, and right into this opening at the bottom of the seafloor. The opening closes behind me, and I fall into this pool of water. When I resurface, I’m in this large cavern, and there are stalls everywhere. I get out and I’m completely dry. You wouldn’t believe all the stuff they have there. And so many people, Draco. From all around the world.”</p><p>               “How come you didn’t see them trying to get in?” Draco asks.</p><p>               “Well, there are more than just one entrance. I don’t know where the others are though. However, you only have to get in that way once if you buy the portkey.” Astoria explains.</p><p>               “Portkey? That doesn’t seem right. Anyone who stumbled across it could just get in.” Draco points out.</p><p>               “They enchant them at the stall. It will work for your touch alone. Otherwise, its useless.”</p><p>               “I didn’t know you could do that.” Draco remarks.</p><p>               “I didn’t either. Not until they showed me.” Draco is quiet for a time. Astoria can feel his eyes on her, but she doesn’t look at him. If she does, he’ll only look away. He seems to be in a mood today.</p><p>               “What’s the first thing you bought?” Draco asks softly, moving a little closer to her. Astoria smiles.</p><p>               “A book. The first one I ever bought. “</p><p>               “What book was it?” Draco murmurs. His hand moves to brush a strand of her hair that has fallen in front of her face. Astoria freezes. She <em>isn’t</em> a liar. But in this moment, she’s afraid. When she tells him the title, he’ll ask what it was about. He’ll get upset. He will think it was all a fabrication, a trick. Perhaps it started as that. A combination of an idea read in a forbidden story with a task she had desperately wished she didn’t have to do. She hadn’t meant to kiss him. That had never been apart of the plan.  The feelings she now had for him were never apart of the plan. She’ll tell him one day. When he knows just how much she cares about him.</p><p>               “Jane Eyre.” she whispers instead, going for the second book she purchased. She avoids his gaze guiltily. She bites her lip as a sick feeling settles into her stomach. Perhaps she didn’t make the right decision. Draco doesn’t ask what its about.</p><p>               “Did you like it?” he asks, twirling a strand of her hand in between his fingers, watching the light catch it.</p><p>               “I didn’t want to. I bought it to be rebellious. Because it was a rush. In reality, I wanted to hate it. I thought if I did, it would make things easier. Excuse my inaction. Allow me to hide behind lies.”</p><p>               “And did you? Hate it?” Draco, for all the careful distance he kept before, is so close she can feel him. He is just centimeters from touching her, having abandoned the strand of her hair he’d been toying with. She felt nervous under his gaze, and from the fact that he was so close. The fact she lied to him isn’t helping matter either. Her fingers go to pull at her clothes, lightly tugging the fabric. They trace the seam of her robes, and then they trace over the familiar fabric of the couch, feeling the outline of a cushion.</p><p>               “Astoria.” Draco whispers, his hand going to her own, letting her fingers trace his knuckles.</p><p>               “No. I didn’t hate it. I couldn’t. It was my favorite. The best one I’ve ever read.” There. That much was true.  </p><p>               “I’d like to read it.” Draco whispers. She turns to him, surprised.</p><p>               “It was one of the one’s they found. It’s gone.” she choked. She had truly lamented the loss. The Ministry had only found two. But she was sure they destroyed them both. Images of flames eating the pages filled her mind, and she closes her eyes in pain.</p><p>               “I’m sorry.” he says. She can tell he means it.</p><p>               He looks at her and he is so close. She can smell his fading cologne, just a hint of it in the air. She can’t place the smell. It’s new, and not something she recognize. She is looking at his eyes, trying to tell what he’s thinking. As usual, its hard to tell. His eyes are pretty though, and she feels that it’s rare that he lets her look this long. She wants to smile. It’s becoming less rare.</p><p>               His eyes remind her of the moors by her house, like dawn on a misty morning, or when the moon shines on the heather, turning the purple a shade of glittering silver.  They were cold. But not in a biting way. More so a still way, like a bright, clear, winter night, when the stars are shining off snow.</p><p>               He shuts his eyes and lets his forehead fall on her shoulder, his own form slumping down. “I’m so sorry. All we do is destroy.” he whispers. It takes her a moment before she realizes he’s talking about the Death Eaters.</p><p>               “They.” she says, her voice sure. He draws back, cupping her face in his hands.</p><p>               “No, Astoria. I’m apart of them. I <em>wanted </em>to be. You can’t possibly discount that.”</p><p>               “You’re right. I can’t. I can’t discount the years <em>I</em> did nothing while people suffered. I can’t discount that I’ve lived the last four years of my life in luxury, while good people died. You want to know what I did during the battle? I ran. I left. With my sister in tow. I didn’t even bother to fight.”</p><p>               Draco doesn’t say anything for a long time.</p><p>               “I can accept it. I can try to do better.” Astoria whispers. Draco looks at her.</p><p>               “Do you know what I’m supposed to do?” Draco asks, tone melancholy.</p><p>               “No, not exactly. I know the end goal, but not the method.” Astoria says softly.</p><p>               “Well, I have a pretty good idea. I’m not a hero, Astoria.” He looks hopeless and lost.</p><p>               “I’m not either. We’re never going to be.” Astoria places her hand on his shoulder. Draco gives a mirthless laugh.  “We can be fighters. I think that’s enough.” Astoria smiles hopefully at him.</p><p>               Draco looks at her, and she sees the ghost of a smile on his lips. He leans in and places his hand gently on the back of her neck, bringing her lips up to his. The kiss is soft and is over far quicker than she wants it to be.</p><p>               He stands grabs his cloak, slipping on his shoes. “I have to go. We have a lot to cover in six days.” Astoria nods and stands, collecting the long-forgotten glasses of water from the table and making her way into the kitchen. Draco follows her. “Your wand. What was it?” Draco asks.</p><p>               “Oh. Acacia wood with dragon-heartstring. But, listen, just because you find a wand that has that combination, doesn’t mean it will work for me.” Astoria advises, turning to look at him over her shoulder as she washed the glasses.</p><p>               “I know. Look, I’ll do the best I can. Maybe if I describe you to someone, they can find you a wand.” Draco says, rolling his eyes.  </p><p>               “Okay.” says Astoria. She is honestly excited. She has missed magic. She must have shown her excitement because Draco is smirking.</p><p>               “You’ll need to practice. You’ll be rusty.” he chides, false seriousness coloring his tone.</p><p>               “Weren’t you leaving?” Astoria says pointedly, although she would rather he stayed. He smirks at her.</p><p>               “Eager to be rid of me already, Greengrass?”</p><p>               “Astoria.” she reminds.</p><p>               “Right.” he dismisses, and when she walks past him, he grabs her waist, turning her towards him for a roguish kiss, that lasts only a few seconds. “Astoria.” he says, eyes flashing. “How—” he murmurs, placing another kiss on lips. “Could—.” Another kiss just behind her ear. “I forget.” Back to her lips.</p><p>               Astoria is sure that she is extremely red in the face, because he seems to be barely holding back a laugh. He pulls away, and walks to the door, opening it.</p><p>               A gust of wind creeps in and Astoria shivers. The time for cold weather is most definitely here. Draco looks over his shoulder and casts his wand at the hearth, and flames light up the small room. “The fire shouldn’t die.” he says. Astoria nods and walks over to push him out the door.</p><p>               “Lots to do. Remember?” Astoria reminds him.</p><p>               “Something must have distracted me.” Draco says, mock confusion on his face. Astoria opens her mouth to retort, but with a crack, he’s gone.</p><p>               Rather rude.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0041"><h2>41. Daphne</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Daphne is staring at her reflection. Everything looks as it should. She is in the bedroom and she is brushing through her long hair. One hundred times before bed, just as she was taught. She steps into one of the many night dresses she owns, choosing a long, silky pale-pink. She likes pale-pink. It reminds her of sunrise. Although shouldn’t she choose robin-egg blue? It would match her eyes.</p><p>               No, she can always wear the blue one tomorrow night. She slips out of the evening gown she’d been wearing. It had been a rich, deep wine color. The color was one of her favorites, but really it suited Astoria more. Astoria looks divine in jewel tones.</p><p>               A house-elf comes and takes the crumpled dress from the floor, before taking it away to be cleaned. She never liked the house-elves. They made her nervous. That was the one aspect of polite society she could do without. Well, maybe not the only one. She certainly didn’t appreciate whatever aspect got her baby sister sentenced to death.</p><p>               Nightgown on, she is debating whether or not to plait her hair. If she plaits it, she’ll have shiny waves in the morning. But, she usually wears straight hair. Hm. Maybe she should ask Pansy if she should try curling it more.</p><p>               The door cracks open and Daphne jumps. Nott. Well, okay. Theo. <em>She </em>was also Nott. “Dear.” He greets, mocking her with the term. She rolls her eyes. Ugh. She had actually liked him at the beginning of her marriage. He was certainly handsome. And always so very sweet to her, if not a little too sarcastic. But she certainly started noticing something off about him. The years in the Dark Lord’s elite forces had taken their toll.</p><p>               He had been reluctant at first. But, after so many dark curses, it’s really only a matter of time before you lose your mind. If you are sane, the guilt will keep you up at night, become too much. It’s better just to lose it.  Of course, he had plenty of nightmares, now. It still made her sad.</p><p>               “Theo.” she murmurs, turning toward him. He undresses, pulling on rich colored pajamas. Good. He wasn’t planning on having sex tonight. He wouldn’t rape her, of course. And it wasn’t as if he was bad in bed. But, if she didn’t have sex with him sometimes, the marriage would fall apart. She would hurt his feelings. He’d divorce her. And then? Well, Daphne’s mother would be destitute.</p><p>               She did make a good prostitute.</p><p>Besides, the people at the Pureblood Reeducation Center needed her. She didn’t want to quit working there. She loved it. Well, not the Reeducation part. That made her uncomfortable. She liked talking to the patients there. They needed company. Pansy had used to work with her there. Pansy just found it too depressing to stay.</p><p>She climbs into bed beside him. He sighs and pulls her close to him. If she closes her eyes, perhaps she can pretend he is the old Theo. He is just a fresh graduate at Hogwarts, glad the war is over. He likes Quadpot over Quidditch. He likes Arithmancy and loves to beat her at wizard chess. He is absolutely besotted with her. He would never do anything to hurt her. He doesn’t just say she’s pretty. She knows that she is. He says that she is clever, and funny. He likes that she cares so much about Astoria.</p><p>He places a kiss to her temple, and she curls into him. She falls asleep like that, pining over a man long gone.</p><p>               Daphne walks up the steps to the entrance of the Reeducation Center. She is wearing a pale green day gown. She has a silky white scarf tied around her head. She looks like a witch from the 1930s. She was just reading a book the other day about a witch from the 1930s. The witch always sounds so glamourous.</p><p>               Daphne looks pretty. This is good. Everyone thinks she’s pretty. She isn’t a talented duelist. She isn’t incredibly smart. She is pretty. Even the Dark Lord says so. If she’s pretty, they will leave her alone. She can be quiet, pretty, and an example for all the other women. She’ll never even have to cast a curse.</p><p>               She enters the center, and the guards greet her, turning slightly red. She gives them a graceful nod. When she gets to the desk, she smiles at the receptionist. “Marietta. I brought biscuits!” She holds up the basket covered with just the cutest little cloth. She can’t help the people in here. She can’t help them. She can bring biscuits. She almost thinks about exactly what this place is. Brainwashing. She doesn’t. She looks at the cute little cloth. It’s a checkered pattern, red and white. Just like in a picture.</p><p>               “Oh thank goodness! Everyone missed you. Why don’t you go check on Ms. Black? She still just can’t seem to get the picture. Maybe you can get through to her?” Marietta simpers. Daphne tries to fight the grimace. Mrs. Black and her, well, they didn’t get along.</p><p>               “Of course! I’ve just missed her so much.” Daphne says, letting a dazzling smile cross her lips. She does pull a face when she heads to the stairs, but Marietta has already busied herself with a magazine hidden behind the desk.</p><p>               The front room lounge is full of chairs and cushy couches. There is a large fire burning in the hearth and an even larger bookcase. A few are playing wizard chess by the window, and some are reading books by the fire. A girl of about fifteen dozes on the couch.</p><p>               She heads to the rooms and heads to the very top of the center, up many flights of marble stairs. She gets to the top and turns along a long hallway, before reaching a solid oak door. She takes her hand and is about to knock. Her nails look good. Theo had picked out the color, once, a long time ago. It was a pale blue. Like her eyes, he’d said. She wondered if he would notice she was wearing it.</p><p>               Her knock sounds on the door and she listens for a response. After a few seconds of silence, she knocks again. “Mrs. Black?” she calls sweetly. No response. “Alright, well, I’m coming in. I hope you don’t mind.” Daphne calls out, waiting a few second for an objection, praying it will come. It doesn’t. She sighs and pushes open the door.</p><p>               Mrs. Black is sitting on a chair in the corner of the richly decorated bedroom. She is staring into space, saying nothing. Daphne walks in and places her basket of baked goods on a table. The room is dim. “Is it dark in here to you? A little stuffy? I should open the curtains. You like the window. I remember.” Daphne says, filling the room with chatter and a cheerful tone. Mrs. Black says nothing, impassively staring ahead. Daphne walks across the room and yanks open the velvet green curtains. “There we are!” she exclaims as bright sunlight fills the room.</p><p>               “Isn’t that better Mrs. Black?” Daphne calls out over her shoulder. The woman lets a sneer cross her face, before schooling her expression. Daphne sighs. She reaches for the basket and holds it up to her. “A biscuit, Mrs. Black?”</p><p>               Finally, empty black eyes turn on her, sparking with a small bit of anger, like a flame on its last flicker. “Tonks.” she says. Daphne stares at her. “Tonks. My surname.” Daphne sighs.</p><p>               “I have chocolate chip, snickerdoodles, and just plain sugar. My sister likes pumpkin flavored ones, but I hate those, so I didn’t bring them. I just think orange is such an unflattering color. Luckily, Astoria doesn’t wear orange. Ugh. Can you imagine? She’d look a disaster.”</p><p>               Mrs. Black doesn’t say anything. She just sneers. Daphne moved around the room. It really was quite dusty in here. She uses her wand and begins to clear the dust. “It’s dusty in here. I know you don’t have a wand, but maybe you could use a dust cloth? I could give you my scarf you know. I like this one. It’s such a nice ivory color, and so silky.”</p><p>               “I know you aren’t vapid.” the woman bites, her lips drawn up in a grimace. Daphne freezes. “I know that you are aware of every little thing that goes on. You know what they do. You know. You care. And so, you talk about pretty clothes, and parties. You even bring biscuits. But, lets be honest. You didn’t bake those. Your house-elf slave did. Am I distraction enough for you?” Her voice is cold and biting.</p><p>               “I’m sorry. I just like clothes. Is that a crime? Surely, you can’t blame a witch for doing a bit of shopping.” Daphne says, her voice trembling, failing to match her carefree words.</p><p>               “Why don’t you do something? Why don’t you, for once in your life, do something real?” Mrs. Black hisses, venom poisoning every word.</p><p>               “Stop.” Daphne whispers.</p><p>               “Stop? Stop? My husband is dead. My daughter is dead. And you? You want me to stop? I heard about your sister, you know. Even I know about that.” Mrs. Black croons.</p><p>               “Don’t talk about her!” Daphne shouts, her hand flying to her mouth, leaving a lip-shaped pink stain on the palm of her hand.</p><p>               Mrs. Black smiles eyes darkening as she has finally struck a nerve. “They sent your baby sister to die. And what did you do? You just sat there, like a good little girl. Like the perfect lady. Like Nott’s <em>bitch</em>.” Daphne backs up her head hitting a bookshelf in corner of the room. She rubs the back of her head in pain, pulling her head scarf loose.</p><p>               “You didn’t do anything. Aren’t you supposed to look after your little sister? Hm? You let her die. You let her die!” Mrs. Black screeched. Although Daphne knows it isn’t true, although she knows her sister is safe for now, she can’t help the guilt that roars through her. Mrs. Black is right. Her sister may be safe, but by no fault of her own.</p><p>               “You let those nasty guards drag her away. Do you think they were nice to her? Do you think they just left her alone?”</p><p>               “Stop it!” Daphne screams.</p><p>               “Stop what? Oh. I see. You are fine when Death Eaters hurt everyone else. Just so long as they don’t touch you and yours? Well, now that they have, what are you going to do about it?” Mrs. Black goads.</p><p>               “I can’t! I wish I could! I wish all of them would die! I wish all of this never happened! But, I can’t!” Daphne shouts. Her heart stops and she’s filled with horror. What had she just said? <em>What had she just said?</em> Someone could have heard. Mrs. Black is smiling now, almost evilly.</p><p>               <em>She’ll tell on me</em>, Daphne thinks to herself. <em>She’ll tell on me to get herself out.</em> Daphne is trembling and she turns and flees the room, the silk scarf fluttering to the floor, and the biscuits long forgotten on the table.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0042"><h2>42. Draco</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Diagon Alley is crowded today, well for Diagon Alley. It is never crowded much anymore. There is significant dip in the number of consumers. Business is most certainly not booming, except for Borgin and Burkes, who seemed to be doing remarkably well. He remembers the bustling streets of his childhood and he finds that for all his previous sneering, he prefers the old Diagon Alley. They still haven’t reopened the ice cream shop.</p><p> It was about half past ten, which was much later then he had planned to get started. Turning down the narrow cobblestone streets, he walks into Shafiq’s Wands. It looks exactly like the Ollivander’s on the inside. They haven’t done much in the way of redecorating.</p><p>The wands the Shafiq’s sell are good. They are a slightly different then Ollivander’s in the design and shape, but the woods are the same, and so are the cores.  </p><p>         “Malfoy! Glad to see you’re back!” Kadmos Shafiq calls from behind the counter, a fat man, brother to the head of the family. Draco nods in greeting.</p><p>“Thanks.” Draco says, curtly.</p><p>“What can I do for you?” the man booms, a stark contrast to Ollivanders soft, reedy voice.</p><p>“I’m looking for a wand. But, I’m buying it for someone else.”</p><p>“A gift? Usually, it’s better to have them with you, you know!” Shafiq exclaimed.  Draco pushes down his annoyance.</p><p>“I’m aware. I want it to be a surprise.” Draco grinds out.</p><p>“I understand that, but I hardly think—”</p><p>“I’m paying. With gold. Lots of it. Still have questions?” Draco spits, allowing his left sleeve to ride up just a little, ignoring the sick feeling it leaves him with.</p><p>“Of course not!” Shafiq sputters. A tense silence fills the shop. “Look, I’ll ask some questions and you tell me a little bit about the person you’re shopping for. Maybe I can try to guess what will suit them.” Draco gives a curt nod, signaling his agreement.</p><p>“Right. What was their last or current wand? Might give me a place to start.” Shafiq tried, his voice shaking slightly.</p><p>“Acacia and Dragon heartstring.” Draco supplies, watching Shafiq’s eyes light up.</p><p>“Hmm, Acacia? That’s an uncommon one. Don’t find many wizards or witches with those sort of wands.” Shafiq pauses briefly. “Did I sell it?”</p><p>“No. They would have purchased it before.” Draco says, shifting uncomfortably. Ollivander had been in his cellar, after all.  Right next to <em>her</em>.</p><p>“Ah, I see. Well, it’s a wand for a very talented witch or wizard. It certainly favors more subtle magic, not one for loud, flashy spells.”</p><p>Draco raises his eyebrows in interest. “I see.”</p><p>“Alright. Well, I don’t have any acacia wood in stock right now, as it’s so rare. I might suggest hazel or silver lime. I’m afraid a lot of our wands are elm. That’s what everyone seems to want these days.”</p><p>“Which of the two would you recommend?” Draco asks.</p><p>“That depends. I think silver lime would be suited to the same sort of magic as acacia. Favors subtle magic. But hazel would better fit the temperament.” Shafiq explains.</p><p>Draco considers a moment. If it were him, he’d prefer to have the same sort of magic. It would feel familiar, right?</p><p>“I think the silver lime would work best.” Draco says, after a moment of thought.</p><p>“Excellent. Now, we do have a silver lime and dragon heartstring. I think that may work well for the person you’re shopping for. It’s twelve inches even, so it won’t work for someone who’s very tall, or someone who’s very short.” Shafiq is growing excited, talking about the sell. Draco can practically see his galleons reflected in the big man’s eyes.</p><p>“I think that will be fine. What’s the flexibility? I’d prefer if it take to new owners fairly quickly.” Draco explains.</p><p>“Oh its quite flexible. Don’t need to worry about a thing there.” Shafiq assures. Draco nods, satisfied. He hands over his gold and exits the shop.</p><p>He is walking towards Madam Malkins when he notices Daphne in the shop. She is furiously looking through a wrack of dress robes, as if nothing can suit her tastes. Her eyes are slightly red, as if she just finished crying. She looks quite distressed. Draco feels fear creep up his spine. That can’t be good. Daphne rarely cries.</p><p>When the bell rings, Daphne looks up, her eyes widening as she sees its him. “Daphne, what a surprise.” Draco says, his voice monotone.</p><p>“Draco, I need your opinion on those boots.” Daphne says pointedly, lacking her usual perfect subtlety. She nods her head to the very back corner of the shop, where there is a pair of shockingly ugly male boots.</p><p>“They’d look terrible on you.” Draco says flatly. Daphne glares.</p><p>“Not for me, idiot. For Theo.” Daphne says, dragging him by his hand to the boots. When they are in the back she begins to pick up the left boot, as though to examine it more closely. Draco takes his wand, casting a nonverbal <em>muffliato. </em></p><p>“Something wrong?” Draco asks. Daphne sniffs delicately.</p><p>“No. I was just wondering how the new peacock your family got was. If it was doing alright. Is it safe? Does it need anything?” Daphne asks him, her grip on the boot turning her knuckles white.</p><p>“Don’t tell me you’re this worked up over a bloody peacock. I don’t even keep up with my father’s pets.” Draco scoffs. Daphne gives him a pointed glare. Oh. Some code. Surely she could have thought of a better term. Astoria didn’t remind him of a peacock in the slightest.</p><p>“The <em>peacock</em>—” Draco says sarcastically, “is fine. Everything’s good. It’s clean, fed, whatever.” Daphne sighs and tucks a sleek blonde strand behind her ear. Her dress is slightly wrinkled, which Draco finds odd. She eyes keep drifting to her fingernails, giving them a glare, as if she disapproves.</p><p>“Well, listen. I heard your father talking the other day. The peacock is sick. It’s going to need some medicine. It won’t stay healthy long without it.”</p><p>“I took care of that.” Draco assures.</p><p>“Okay, well it also gets lonely if it doesn’t have anything to read. It needs to eat too. I know you said you fed it, but she doesn’t like a lot of meat. Also, she gets nervous if she’s by herself for a long time, so make sure you spend some time with her. She is shy though too, so if she isn’t talkative don’t worry, just try to get the conversation going. She always prefers to listen, you know.” Daphne is rambling now, and her hands are gripping the shoe insanely tight.</p><p>“Daphne.” Draco tries, attempting to interrupt the rant.</p><p>“And she gets cold really easily. The weather is getting cooler. You can’t let her catch a cold. That would be disastrous. She’d have to stay in bed for weeks. You may want to bring her something to read. She likes to read. Not a muggle book. That is the last thing she needs.”</p><p>“Daphne!” he tries, a little louder. She’d already mentioned reading.  </p><p>“She is really a very anxious person. She doesn’t do well when she is scared or nervous. I’m sure she’s terrified right now. And after what happened with Rowle she’s really very jumpy. And don’t yell at her. She might not say anything about it, but she hates yelling. She’s very sensitive and I know how you are. You insult everyone, all the time. She really takes that kind of thing to heart. I swear she remembers everything I say and do. It’s insane. She never holds a grudge though. Never.” Daphne is chocking, crying, heaving now. Draco’s jaw tightens at the mention of Rowle and checks nervously over his shoulder. Madame Malkin must be in the back and no one else was in the shop.</p><p>“Daphne!” he shouts, shaking her shoulders. “Get it together.” he says, softer, but still firm. Daphne nods, wiping her eyes. Draco is relieved that her crazed ranting is over. She’s still hyperventilating slightly. “Hey, I’ve got it, okay? She’s fine, great in fact. I just lit a fire where she is this morning. It’ll last all night. I’ve got her potions. Everything is fine.” Draco says, somewhat awkwardly. He tries to commit everything else to memory. Books. No yelling. No insults. Well, he’d work on it.</p><p>“Okay. I’m sorry. Where are my manners? I’m certainly not acting like a lady.” Daphne remarks, voice trembling.</p><p>“It’s fine.” Draco says. He looks away and gives her a few moments to collect herself.</p><p>“Remember all the other stuff I said, okay? The poor girl must be out of her mind with only you for company.” Daphne says, a little bit of her old haughty tone creeping back in. Draco was about to tell Daphne her sister enjoyed his company just fine, but thought better of it. “You’ve been nice to her right?”</p><p>“Nice enough.” Draco drawls, ignoring the stab of guilt he feels.</p><p>“Is she mad at me?” Daphne whispers. She looks incredibly small in this moment, and Draco wonders what on earth has happened to her. She never looks like this.</p><p>“No. She speaks highly of you.” Draco says. Astoria hasn’t talked about Daphne much, but there is no denying the affection she has for her sister. Daphne nods and stares at the ground. She places the boot back on the pedestal and reaches for the other one.</p><p>“Draco. I made a mistake.” she says, barely more then a whisper. Her blue eyes are shining with fresh tears. Damnit. He shouldn’t have trusted her. She must have let something slip about her sister. Anger rises in his throat as he fights to control his temper.</p><p>“We can’t afford mistakes.” he bites. Daphne takes a shuddering breath.</p><p>“I was at the Center. I was talking to a patient. I said I wanted the Death Eaters dead.”</p><p>“Fuck, Daphne. It can’t really get too much worse than that.” Draco hisses. He’s fearful for her, but slightly relieved it doesn’t have anything to do with Astoria or himself.</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“Did anyone hear you?”</p><p>“I don’t think so. But she did. Mrs. Black.”</p><p>“Andromeda? I don’t think she’d be one to tell.” Draco reasons, his heartbeat slowing.</p><p>“Really? Even to get herself out?”</p><p>“Daphne. Anyone can get out of there. She’s served her time. All she has to do is say exactly what they want her to say. If she wanted to leave, she could have.”</p><p>“So you think it will be alright?” Daphne asks him, looking at him. She looks incredibly sad. He wonders if she’s always been this thin.</p><p>“Yeah. I do. I would go to Nott. Tell him what you did. That way, if he hears something, he can be prepared to help you.” Draco says, picking up the left boot. It really is very ugly.</p><p>“You think it wise to trust him?” Daphne says, surprised.</p><p>“With you, yes. He won’t want the shame. Besides, I think he cares for you. In his own twisted way.” Draco says. “Maybe you can get him the boots.”</p><p>Daphne smirks. “They are his style.”</p><p>“Listen. I’ve got things to attend to today. Don’t worry about her, alright?” Draco says, setting down the boot.</p><p>“Can I see her?” Daphne asks. Draco considers it. He wishes they could talk to each other. Astoria would like it.</p><p>“How’s your occlumency?” Draco asks.</p><p>“Fair. Won’t be enough for the Lestrange’s or the Dark Lord.” Daphne admits.</p><p>“Do you think it prudent?” Draco asks, looking at her. Daphne deflates slightly.</p><p>“No. I don’t. “Daphne looks at a mirror and frowns. She pulls out her wand and corrects her face, all traces of tears disappearing. She smooths the wrinkles in her dress and pulls some lipstick out of her handbag, dabbing a slight amount on. “I will see you later.” Daphne says, her heels clicking against the wood floors as she exits.</p><p>Draco pretends to examine a pair of neat, black dress robes for a few minutes, before leaving the shop. The entrance in the Leaky Cauldron that lead to muggle London had long been blocked off, so he’d have to apparate to muggle London. He pictures a small square with a café and a sporting goods store. It’s near the outskirts of London, and he disappears with a crack.</p><p>Reappearing next to the storefront, he stepped inside. If they were going to do this, they’d need clothes, other then pretty dresses and stuffy formal wear. He picks up two pairs of jeans for each of them. He tries to guess Astoria’s size before moving on to shirts and coats. He picks out a pair of sturdy boots for both of them, and moves to the counter with his supplies. He is able to use transfigured galleons to pay for his clothes, feeling a little guilty. Not too guilty. If he was going to try to rid the world of the Dark Lord, the muggles owed him some clothes.</p><p>As he’s walking down the street a little ways, so he can apparate without being seen, he comes across a small bookshop. He almost walks right by it, but he can remember Astoria’s haunted eyes as she told him about her book being destroyed. He approaches the little shop, the bell ringing announcing an entrance. An old lady looks up and smiles at him.</p><p>“Can I help you, sir?” she asks. She is wearing a rather old floral dress and a heavy coat, even though there is only a slight chill in the air, and the bookshop is heated.</p><p>“I’m looking for a book.” he says, throat closing slightly. Talking to muggles makes him nervous.</p><p>“What sort of book?” she asks kindly, stepping out from behind the counter.</p><p>“Jane Eyre.” he says tightly, slightly afraid to say out loud why he is here and what he is looking for. Clothes are easily explained away. Books are not. He looks out the window nervously.</p><p>“Ah, Bronte. One of my favorites you know. We don’t get a lot of young men in here looking for that book.” she says over her shoulder as she searches the shelfs for him. Great. A book that draws attention. If she was questioned, she might remember him.</p><p>“Here we are!” she exclaims, bringing him the book. It has a glossy, shiny cover. He pays with more transfigured money, and as he’s leaving, he obliviates the woman. He can’t risk it. Sorry.</p><p>When he arrives at the manor, he hides his purchases in him room, in the very back of his closet, casting a few concealment charms. He collapses onto his bed, fancying a short nap, when he feels a sharp, stabbing pain into his head. Again and Again. Ah. His Aunt was here. This couldn’t be good.</p><p>The house-elf knocks on his door. “Master. Madame Lestrange is here to see you.” The creatures voice shook. He cringes.</p><p>“I’ll be out.” he calls. He closes his eyes, taking deep breaths. He pictures his mind as a field, next to a sea. All his memories, thoughts and feelings are flimsy grass plants, blowing in the wind. He imagines a great wave, tall and cold, crashing onto the soil, ripping up every thought, memory, feeling, and washing them away. Only a blank expanse of land was left.</p><p>He walks calmly to the main parlor. He enters and the pain in his head increases tenfold. “Draco! My darling nephew!” Bellatrix exclaims. Her hair is absolutely wild, even more so than usual. Her black eyes glitter with a crazed sheen. She had been lounging on an expensive velvet chaise, but she stands to greet him, drawing him in for a tight hug that makes his nose wrinkled and his skin crawl. He is not disgusted. He is nothing. Blank. Silent.</p><p>“I’ve come to congratulate you!” she says loudly. He would have flinched. But it is not to loud. It is nothing. The waves crash gently on a barren wasteland.</p><p>“What for?” His voice is smooth, calm, and collected.</p><p>“Your first kill! The guards just told me! Isn’t it exhilarating?” she breathes. Draco eyes his mother who is sitting on delicate white loveseat opposite the chaise, staring into the flames in the hearth.</p><p>“A rush.” Draco says flatly. He doesn’t feel anything. His thoughts are in the sea. Sinking down, down, down. The water tears at them. They rust. Fade away.</p><p>“I’ll tell the Dark Lord. He’s been most interested in your return. He says he may want to see you in a few weeks. Isn’t that exciting?” His mother blanches, before schooling her expression. She just stares into nothing.</p><p>“Why is he interested? What have I done to deserve the honor of his attention?” Draco asks. He is not afraid of the answer. He has never been afraid. He will never be afraid. He is nothing.</p><p>“Well, I may have bragged about what an excellent nephew I have! Lucius asked me, and well, I couldn’t refuse my dear brother-in-law. His interest is primarily a favor to me, but it is also a chance! You can restore your name!” Bellatrix explains, gripping his shoulders, giving him a fervent shake.</p><p>“I thank you for your high recommendation.” Draco says, devoid of any and all emotion.</p><p>“What’s been going on with you, dear Draco?” Bellatrix asks, taking a seat, and patting the spot next to her.</p><p>“Nothing you haven’t heard about.” Draco responds, taking a seat.</p><p>“Ah.” Bellatrix examines a pointed black fingernail.</p><p>“I actually have a question for you.” Draco murmurs.</p><p>“Oh? What of?” Bellatrix says, her eyes lighting up with interest.</p><p>“Well, you have served the Dark Lord for many years. I was wondering, with what all he trusts you with. What I should aspire to?” Draco says, his tone showing controlled, fabricated interest.</p><p>“Well, Draco. I won’t lie to you. We did have a disagreement shortly before you left. I was responsible for one of his prized artefacts getting lost. It was a great shame, a great shame.” Bellatrix is tearing up and goes to pull at her hair, letting out a frightening scream of agony, falling to her knees in penance.</p><p>“But I, like you should hope to, have restored the Dark Lord’s faith in me!”  Bellatrix shouts gleefully, leaping back to her feet. “He has given me the cup again. I do not keep it a Gringotts. Oh no. Never again.”</p><p>Draco does not care where the cup is. He doesn’t care about the cup at all. His question is for polite conversation only. “Ah. And where do you keep it now?”</p><p>“Oh, where all the Blacks keep their treasure. Where I should have kept it to begin with. My husbands vault is lacking. I keep it in a cave, at Ben Nevis, the very highest peak. All the Blacks keep their most prized possessions there. It is impenetrable. Safer than even Gringrotts. Only those with the blood of a Black can enter!” Bellatrix excitement is hard to miss.</p><p>“The Dark Lord is right to trust you.” The Dark Lord is always right. Never wrong. Never.</p><p>“Well, the Dark Lord and I have made leaps and bounds in our relationship. I’m sure you’ve heard that I’m—”</p><p>“Bella!” his mother all but shouts. Bellatrix turns in surprise. “I wanted to talk to you in private.” his mother says softly.</p><p>“Oh. Well, alright. Run along Draco. I’m sure you’ve got all sorts of exciting activities planned for tonight.” Bellatrix says, slightly put out.</p><p>               Draco leaves and walks back to his room, his pace slow and even. When he closes the door, the pain in his head lessens. He sits in a chair and closes his eyes. He waits, for probably an hour. When she’s gone, he feels the pain in his head disappear, and he lets everything grow again.</p><p>               He turns to his bed, suddenly exhausted. Ben Nevis. Well, he knows where the cup is. That much is true. He still feels blank and empty. It takes awhile for everything to resurface again, all his thoughts. They jump, jumbling and chasing around his brain, trying to reorient themselves.</p><p>               He doesn’t bother undressing, He lays there, basking in the numbness. He forgot how good it feels, to shut everything down, to feel nothing. It will be awhile before he opens up again, and his mind returns to normal. Draco has occlumency operating at all times, but with someone as strong as Bellatrix, it takes time for his mind to return, for him to be able to feel again.</p><p>               The first time he had successfully shut down, so even Bellatrix couldn’t see his thoughts, he had been terrified. Terrified that he had lost his feelings and that he wouldn’t care about anything forever. Well, as terrified as he could have been under the occlumency. But, it returned, just a few hours later.</p><p>               He falls asleep, thinking of nothing.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0043"><h2>43. Astoria</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It is nearly six in the evening when Draco arrives, sweeping in the door unannounced, making her jump a mile high. He gives her a nod before entering the kitchen, shuffling around the items he is carrying.  He places a paper bag of food in the kitchen and sets the other bags he is carrying on the counter.</p><p>               “Evening.” he says flatly. His demeanor is far different then it was when he left yesterday morning. Astoria would call it cold, except that wouldn’t exactly be right. It is almost…empty. He looks at her a long time when he sits down, like he’s trying to make sure she’s all there. The fire is on its last legs, so he restarts it with his wand. She is grateful for the warmth, getting up to sit on the floor by the hearth.  </p><p>               “I have your wand.” Draco murmurs, brow furrowing as she sits on the floor. His voice is flat, lacking its usual range of tones. Draco was never a particularly animated speaker, but he sounds strange, even for him.</p><p>               “Is everything alright? You seem different.” Astoria asks, fear creeping into her voice. His indifference is a startling contrast to yesterday, and it makes her nervous.</p><p>               “I’m fine. I had to use extensive occlumency. It will take some time before I feel normal.” Draco says. He never breaks his gaze, and she shifts nervously from being studied so closely.</p><p>               “Can you…feel anything?” Astoria asks softly. She knows the consequences of occlumency. Daphne mentioned to her once that Theo had used it too much, and because he lacked a certain finesse for it, she didn’t believe he’d ever really recover. It was sad, honestly. She shudders, imagining Draco’s emotions and empathy lost forever, buried to deep to be recovered.</p><p>               “Depends. It’s all there. It’s just recovering from the magic. I like to think of it as resurfacing. It’s pushing its way to the top of my consciousness, instead of being buried in my unconsciousness.” Draco is still watching her. “Don’t sit so close to the fire. You’ll catch alight.” He’s trying to tease but the tone isn’t there. It just sounds bland.</p><p>               Astoria scoots a little back, though. Draco gets up from the chair to settle on the floor beside her. He holds his hand right up to the flames. “Hypocrite.” Astoria grumbles, nudging his knee with her own. A ghost of a smile traces his lips.</p><p>               “How long will you feel nothing? How long is everything gone?” Astoria asks. She thinks of Theodore and his dead eyes, so different from how they used to be. She doesn’t want to imagine Draco like that, eyes blank, only able to reflect a sea of apathy.</p><p>               “It’s never gone. Just hidden.” he says softly. Astoria nods quietly and Draco pulls his hand back form the flames. “It’ll be here soon now. It never lasts more than twenty-four hours. At least for me. I’ve spent years mastering the skill. It won’t damage my mind.” His inflection is all wrong, like he is trying to use a reassuring voice, but he can’t quite remember what it is supposed to sound like. Astoria runs her fingertips along the floorboards, feeling the grains of wood beneath her touch. The floor is worn in some places and rough in others. There is a scratch here and a scratch there.</p><p>               Draco’s hand goes over her own, catching it from the patterns it was drawing on the wood. He traces the lines of her palm. “I feel you.” he hums. He threads his fingers through hers and pulls her until she lies against him. He kisses her softly, and she can barely feel it. She wants to deepen the kiss, but she doesn’t.</p><p>               They lay like that on the floor for several minutes. Astoria glances up at him and his eyes are closed. Every few moments, he kisses her again, increasing in intensity. It’s as if he suddenly remembers how to express what he feels. He kisses her like he is searching for something, and with every kiss it seems he finds a piece of what he is looking for. The time in between kisses is decreasing and he tightens his hold on her.</p><p>               He whispers her name, and pulls her into him, his lips smash against hers, desperate, like he is trying to pull something out of her. He makes a low sound in the back of his throat and Astoria thinks she may just burst her heart is beating so fast. His hands are grasping her hips as he moves on top of her, saying her name again and again. He hovers over her, staring into her eyes, their former coldness gone. He’s hers again.</p><p>               He kisses her one last time, softer now, more tender. He buries his head in the crook of her neck, his breath fanning against her skin. “Thank you.” he whispers. Astoria is about to ask for what, when he leaps up with surprising grace. He offers his hand to her to pull her to her feet.</p><p>               “Your wand.” Draco says, giving her a smile. It’s a little bit of an awkward smile, but Astoria guesses that it’s more because he doesn’t smile often. He strides to the kitchen and pulls a narrow box out of the bag, waving it in the air. Astoria walks over and takes it from his outstretched hand, excited at the prospect of using magic again.</p><p>               “What is it?” she asks, curiously, studying the shiny wood.</p><p>               “Silver lime and dragon heartstring. It’s supposed to produce a similar feel for magic that your acacia wand did.” Draco explains. Astoria holds it up to the light, smiling. It was quite pretty. “Try it.” Draco urges.</p><p>               She lifts it. She can feel a faint warmth emitting from the wood. It will not work as well as the acacia. It already feels strange in her grip. She points the wand at a glass on the counter and says, clearly, “Wingardium Leviosa.” She would try an easy spell first, from first-year. She would start with the basics. The glass rises, a little shakier than normal, but Astoria is optimistic that it will get easier.</p><p>               She can feel a rush as magic runs through her and out of the wand. She had missed this feeling. She smiles and turns to look at Draco, who is smirking at her. In her distraction, the glass falls from the air and shatters on the floor.</p><p>               “Nice job, Greengrass.” Draco drawls, his smirk growing wider. She glares at him.</p><p>She points the wand at the glass pieces and says, “Reparo.” The glass trembles on the floor, but the pieces don’t reform. She sighs in frustration. “Reparo.” The glass returns to it’s former state this time, and she shoots Draco a pointed look. He raises his hands in mock surrender.</p><p>“Practice with that. Get good. You’re going to need to be.” Draco advises, appraising her spell work as she summons a potions book off the bookshelf. It flies to the far left on her first try, but on her second, it speeds to her.</p><p>“Alright. Next time you’re here, I’ll be a supreme duelist. They’ll be begging me to join the Death Eaters.” Draco snorts. “I’m serious. I may just replace you.” Astoria sniffs, throwing him a smile over her shoulder. Draco gives her an amused half-smile.</p><p>“I got us some travelling clothes. Try them on. See if they fit.” Draco says, his tone slightly demanding. Oh yes. Back to himself, alright.</p><p>He hands her a pair of pants, a shirt made out of a strange material that felt oddly stretchy, along with a thick coat and some boots. She made her way to the bathroom upstairs, ignoring Draco’s scoff and raised eyebrows as she retreated to change in private.  </p><p>The shirt and pants fit well. The coat is slightly too big, and the boots feel stiff, but she supposes she will just have to break them in. She walks down the stairs. Draco is flopped across the couch, taking up the whole space, his long legs hanging off the armrest. He glances up at her, his eyes roving up and down her frame.</p><p>He smirks. “It’ll do.” is all he says, his smirk deepening as she blushes and looks at the floor again. Her fingers run along the hem of the shirt, taking in the smooth, stretchy material of the shirt.</p><p>“You owe me a story, Greengrass.” Draco says.</p><p>“Alright. Today’s one is—” Astoria starts.</p><p>“No. Not that sort of story. Although I’ll allow you to tell me in a minute.”</p><p>“You’ll allow me.” Astoria says, incredulously.</p><p>“That’s what I said.” he replies, giving her a grin that lets her know he isn’t serious.</p><p>“What other story could I possibly tell you?” Astoria asks, settling down in the armchair turned couch opposite Draco. Draco gestures for her to come to him, but she pretends to be oblivious.</p><p>“You promised me a story about yourself.” Draco says, rolling her eyes at her refusal to join him.  </p><p>“I already told you one.” Astoria says, folding her hands in her lap, rather primly, in a way that reminds her of Daphne.</p><p>“Not really. It was a story about The Black Market, not you. I want to know about you.” Draco says teasingly.</p><p><br/>               “I’m afraid I don’t have very many interesting ones.” Astoria says calmly. She doesn’t really enjoy talking about herself.</p><p>“I’m sure you’ll think of something.” Draco assures, his lip quirking. Astoria crosses her arms, huffing.</p><p>“Fine. After the story I’m <em>supposed</em> to tell you.” Astoria snarks.</p><p>“My, my. What a tone. Why not before?”</p><p>“Business before pleasure, Mr. Malfoy.” Astoria says, in mock seriousness. Instantly, she knows her phrasing is a mistake. She doesn’t believe she’s ever seen a smile so wicked.</p><p>“What do you know of <em>pleasure</em>, Astoria?” he croons, drawing out the syllables in every word. Astoria feels as though her cheeks are on fire, and she looks away from him quickly. Draco gives a dark chuckle, no doubt at her expense.</p><p>               Draco is up from the couch, and Astoria is caught between wanting him to stay put, and very much wanting him to come to her. He crosses to her seat and leans down as if to kiss her, before plucking an imaginary piece of fluff of her shoulder. His eyes sparkle at her and she gives him a glare. He tosses himself down beside her, throwing his legs over her lap.</p><p>               “Very well. Have it your way. Tell me the no doubt, very miserable story about myself, and then we will get to you.” Draco sighs dramatically.</p><p>               “Arrogant. This one is not about you.” Astoria says, still unbelievably flustered, her fingers shaking as they slide across the material of the pants. It was a rougher fabric than she was used to, and an odd shade of blue. Yet, while stiff, they remained comfortable.</p><p>               “It’s called denim.” Draco says, his eyes on her fingers. “Muggles call them jeans.” Astoria wrinkled her nose. It’s a rather funny name. They would probably think wizards had funny names for things too.</p><p>               There is a beat of silence. Astoria feels anxious. She isn’t sure why. It could be that she isn’t used to this rush of all these different feelings, all at once. It isn’t a bad feeling. Quite the opposite. It’s just overwhelming. She focusses on the denim. She can <em>feel </em>the denim. Every thread. It’s slightly stretchy, and there is a seam on the side that runs all the way up the leg.</p><p>               “Busy fingers.” Draco murmurs, sitting up. His hand brushes her arm. She stills them. “I didn’t mean you had to stop.” he says softly. Astoria is quiet and she closes her eyes, leaning her head back. “You said you do it when you’re nervous. Why are you nervous?” Draco asks, concern filling his eyes.</p><p>               Astoria shifts. “I don’t know. I just feel anxious sometimes. There isn’t always a reason. I’ve…always been this way.” Draco nods. It’s the truth. <em>He</em> also makes her nervous, but he doesn’t need to know that. “Daphne taught me the trick. Feeling things. She said to first, feel something. Then, describe it in my head. It works.” It’s a better coping mechanism then Daphne has. Astoria thinks of the way Daphne focusses on her appearance, as if her pretty face will stop everything going on around her. In all fairness to her sister, it usually does.</p><p>               Draco nods and lays back down, not bothering to remove his legs from her. She doesn’t mind. She likes the weight. She feels like she might float away, and it helps that something is holding her down.</p><p>               “The story. You said it’s not about me?” Draco asks.</p><p>               “No. It’s not. He’s supposedly related to you. But, I don’t know how.”</p><p>               “If it’s not about me, then why do I need to know it?” Draco asks. Astoria frowns.</p><p>               “Well, I don’t really know. I sort of think it’s an example. Like, sort of a “If he can do it, so can you” sort of thing.” Astoria suggests.</p><p>               “Alright, alright. I suppose we better get on with it then.” Draco rubs his temples as though he is recovering from a headache. He did say he had to use considerable occlumency. Of course, that is something she wants to ask about. There are two reasons he would have to use that much occlumency. And since the reasons are the Dark Lord and Bellatrix, she knows it warrants a discussion.</p><p>               “Draco?”</p><p>               “Hm?”</p><p>               Astoria bites her lip, a habit of hers that Daphne hates to no end. If he didn’t tell her the reason he had to use occlumency, then perhaps he doesn’t want to know. She doesn’t want to pry, but she can’t help but feel she probably has a right to know. What if it relates to her safety?</p><p>               “You said you had to use occlumency. Why?” Astoria continues quickly, after a beat of silence. “Of course, you don’t have to tell me if its personal, I was just wondering if—”</p><p>               “Astoria.” Draco interrupts. She falls silent. “I didn’t want to scare you. I was going to tell you when I felt I had the emotional range to speak with tact.” Astoria finds his language odd. It switches from casual to formal so quickly. Like, he couldn’t decide which one fit him. Astoria notices that she often does the same thing</p><p>               “Oh. Is everything all right?” Why would she be scared? Her fingers search for something to occupy their time, and settle on the old faux leather cover of the would-be armchair. It’s cracked in many places, revealing the cushion fabric underneath.</p><p>               “Yes. Bellatrix came to congratulate me last night. On your passing.” Draco says, shifting awkwardly. Relief spreads through Astoria.</p><p>               “Well, I guess we pulled it off. For now.”</p><p>               Draco smiles briefly. “Yes. We did. But, you know Bellatrix. Guarding my mind was…laborious.”</p><p>               “I know, but that’s good. That you were able to talk to her without arousing suspicion. At least that’s one less thing we have to worry about.” Draco makes a sound that signals his agreement and closes his eyes. He looks tired. “I didn’t know you were so good at occlumency.” Astoria says, her voice carrying a small note of pride.</p><p>               “Yes. Well, I’ve had a number of situations in which to practice. I was under Bellatrix’s tutelage for quite some time. I learned from the best.” Draco shifts uncomfortably, his eyes watching her fingers.</p><p>               Astoria could have mentioned how difficult that must have been, but that would be stating the obvious. She places a hand his calf and squeezes gently, before dropping her hand to rest in the narrow space in her lap that wasn’t being taken up by his legs.</p><p>               “Astoria. She told me something. A location. I’ll need to visit it.” Astoria leans forward suddenly and looks at him, eyes sparking with interest.</p><p>               “Where? Why do you need to go?”</p><p>               “Ben Nevis.”</p><p>               Astoria’s brow furrows. She gives him a quizzical look. “The mountain peak? Why?”</p><p>               Draco sighed and ran his hands over his face. “The Black’s have a vault there. They claim it’s been in the family for centuries and that it’s safer than the Gringotts vault. They keep things they don’t trust Gringotts with in there. My Aunt put something in there.”</p><p>               “What did she put there?”</p><p>               “I can’t really tell you. It’s something to do with the stories. It’s a part of the task Snape wanted me to do.”</p><p>               “Oh.” Astoria is surprised that he doesn’t trust her enough to tell her.</p><p>               “I trust you, but not your occlumency. If they find you and you know, it won’t just be a quick death, Astoria.” Draco says, sensing her slight hurt.</p><p>               “No, no. I understand. I just…wish I could help you.” Draco nudges her hand with his leg in response. “Could I go with you? To Ben Nevis?” Astoria asks softly.</p><p>               “No.” Draco says strongly.</p><p>               “But why?” Astoria asks. She tries to shove his legs off of her, but he doesn’t move them.</p><p>               “One, it will be undoubtedly dangerous. There is no telling what sort of traps will be there. Two, you cannot even open the vault without possessing Black blood.”</p><p>               “But—”</p><p>               “I’m telling you no.” His voice is low.</p><p>               “You don’t get to tell me no. I’d like to address your concerns.” Astoria’s tone is even. Draco looks like he is trying to fight a smile at her phrasing, but she gives him a look to let him know that laughing at her right now would not be in his best interest.</p><p>               “Address them.” Draco wisely says instead, if only a little sarcastically.</p><p>               “In case you haven’t noticed, we are in this together. If you die, I will too. I won’t be able to hide from them for very long without help. If you perish, I’ll be right behind you. So, if you are worried about my death, I’m afraid that point is moot.”</p><p>               “True.” Draco admits begrudgingly.</p><p>               “As for the blood wards, you just have to open the vault. Once the door is open, as long as you permit it, I should be able to enter.”</p><p>               “I don’t know, Astoria. I mean, no offense, but you aren’t exactly at your best right now. I need to go tomorrow, and I don’t think the wand is going to adjust that quickly.</p><p>               “Perhaps I should hex you. Then we will know how well the wand works.”</p><p>               Draco gives her a long, hard look. “What are you? A bloody barrister?” </p><p>               “A barrister very good at hexes.” Draco snorts at her response.</p><p>               “Alright. Fine.” Astoria breaks into a smile at her victory.</p><p>               “Good. Now that that is settled, I believe I have a story to tell you.”</p><p>               “And what is this one called?” Draco asks, sinking further into the seat, getting comfortable.</p><p>               “Turncoat.”</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0044"><h2>44. Hyperion Greengrass ~ The Year 2000~</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The market is crowded today, full of bustling figures, most with their face covered, all walking at a brisk pace. Hyperion knows he must stick out, and not just because his robes are among the finest in the street. He walks with a slow and measured pace, no face covering. He does not care who sees him. He has only known about this place for a few short months, and he already practically runs it.</p><p>               He has kept his ear to the ground. He has been listening. There is a girl here today, one who is supposed to be dead. A name not spoken since ’98. It is her first time, and she has gone to great pains to keep her identity hidden. Ah, and what a shame all her careful planning, her friends careful planning, will come to naught.</p><p>               The Black-Market trades in more things then just forbidden wares. It trades in secrets. Hyperion knows many secrets, and so he had traded them for many more. A whisper, a rumor, a conversation overheard and relayed. It all travels underground and straight to his ears. He knows it all.</p><p>               Hyperion knows who will be in the rundown pub at the end of a narrow alleyway. He enters and heads turn his way. He gives them all a cold smile. He isn’t here to play silly games. He is here to make a bet, dabble in the art of gambling.</p><p>               He turns and heads up the narrow rickety staircase, that leads to bedrooms. Bedrooms for fugitives, if they can make their way here without dying, that is. Of course, all the rooms are empty. Except for one, at the very end. A temporary resident, he is told. Only here for exactly an hour, and offering their weight in gold for an item. The one item, that the Black-Market does not have. It is such a dangerous request, after all.</p><p>               He opens the door and casts “Expelliarmus!” before the figure in the room even has time to turn around. He raises his hand and catches a wand. The figure whips around and gasps in fear. They have made a grave mistake. Lucky for them, he isn’t interested in the business of bounty today.</p><p>               “Well, well. If it isn’t the ever elusive, famous Ginevra. What a surprise? Shouldn’t you be dead?” His voice is cool, measured, with just a hint of feigned amusement.</p><p>               “What do you want?” she bites, her eyes ablaze with anger. He has never seen her, but he supposes he has guessed right. There are few young women who would look so travel worn that just happen to have red hair. And, of course, he obvious reaction to hearing her own name. Had she played dumb, she just might have fooled him.  Her scarf she must have been using to cover her face, is carelessly thrown onto the bed. She assumed she would have privacy. That if anyone came to the door, they would knock, and politely inform her they have the requested item. Foolish girl.</p><p>               “I want to talk, madam. Why don’t you have a seat?” he says, mock politeness dripping from his voice, as he gestures with his wand to a rickety wooden stool. She sits slowly. She looks wild and fierce. It reminds him of a rabid, trapped animal. “Now, I suppose I should let you know, that I’m here about the item you seek. I have no plans to turn you in.”</p><p>               The woman does not relax. She looks as if she trusted him about as far as she could throw him. Perhaps she is smarter than she appears.</p><p>               “I should trust you, why? Typically, you let the person you are making a deal with keep their wand.”</p><p>               “Ah, Mrs. Weasley. I am anything but your typical tradesmen.”</p><p>               “Really? And who exactly are you?” Her voice is low, and full of anger. She isn’t shouting, but the vehemence behind her words is clearly felt. It makes him smile.</p><p>               “Greengrass. I believe you went to school with my daughters?”</p><p>               She must have not been in the mood to make polite conversation, because she spits “Yeah, only knew of one. Daphne? She was a bitch.”</p><p>               He chuckled darkly. “Well, if you don’t like her, then she is doing her job right. Common rabble such as yourself should <em>envy</em> her, not <em>like</em> her.” She shoots him a glare in response and opens her mouth to retort, but he continues right along, interrupting her. “Now. I take great interest in the item you seek. It is not a common thing to ask for. Most, have never even heard of it.”</p><p>               “Do you have it, or not?”</p><p>               “A basilisk fang is not an easy thing to get. There isn’t a person in this market who has one, and certainly none brave enough to try.”</p><p>               “I know that. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t. Look, if there is no chance of me getting one, I’ll give you the gold to keep this quiet, and I’ll be on my way.” She looks defeated, as if this had been her last hope of getting one.</p><p>               “My dear, there is hope for you yet. I am willing to breed one for you, and would you look at that? I’m not even going to take your gold.”</p><p>               “Breed one? You must be joking.” She scoffs, shaking her head. She runs her fingers through her hair and slumps down in her seat.</p><p>               “I assure you, I am not. I will do it, free of charge.” He gives her an oily smile.</p><p>               “Everything comes with a price, especially with your lot.”</p><p>               “My lot? Whatever do you mean?” Hyperion asks innocently.</p><p>               “The twenty-eight.” She spits it like it’s a foul curse.</p><p>               “Ah, Ms. Weasley. You forget yourself. Your name is in that book too.” She glares at him silently for several moments. She seems to be debating the idea in her head. Finally, she seems to relent.</p><p>               “I know you have a price. Name it.”</p><p>               Hyperion sighs and takes a seat on the bed opposite the wooden stool. “It has something with destroying the Dark Lord, no?” She says nothing, her lips pressed together tightly. “Answer me, girl.”</p><p>               “Fine. Yes. I’m not telling you how, why, or what. But yes, it has something to do with that.”</p><p>               “I figured. You wouldn’t risk this much, or bother asking for it, if it didn’t.” She looks annoyed with his talk, and appears to be quite eager to cut to the chase.</p><p>               “Name. Your. Price.” She grits out.</p><p>               “The Dark Lord. I want him destroyed. That’s my price. I give you the fang, use it.”</p><p>               “Why? Isn’t this your perfect world? You do nothing but benefit.”</p><p>               “True. Very true. But, see. I don’t appreciate frauds. And I have discovered, the Dark Lord is a fraud.”</p><p>               “A fraud?” Her eyes narrow, suspicious of his answer.</p><p>               “Yes. I did a little digging. <em>Our Lord</em> is a common half-blood named Tom Riddle. And he would dare set himself above the rest of us? Tell us what sort of magic we can and cannot cast, and all to ensure none can challenge his magical abilities? He promised us glory. He promised us freedom. Instead, we are slaves.”</p><p>               She shook her head with disgust. “How noble.”</p><p>               “I won’t pretend I am doing this for what you consider the moral high ground. However, I am no fool. I can see we were better off before Riddle. With Fudge, we were rich. Respected. We got too greedy, and believed the grass was greener on the other side, so to speak. As I am sure you know, it is not.”  </p><p>               “Pun intended?” she quipped.</p><p>               “No.”</p><p>               “Well, fine. I’ll be back here, this time next year. Have the fang, <em>please</em>?”</p><p>               “You can count on it, Ms. Weasley.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0045"><h2>45. Draco</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Draco feels giddy. All his emotions and feelings are racing up through his head, like a water geyser. The pressure builds and builds, until finally, the water shoots up, spraying everywhere. Occasionally his head will throb, but it goes away in a short time. </p><p>Not to mention, he is extremely relieved this story will not be about him. It is a welcome reprieve. Usually, if he is honest with himself, he likes attention. These stories are most definitely changing his mind about that. </p><p>“The Turncoat?” he echoes back to Astoria, languidly stretching out his limbs even more. Astoria seems to have relaxed a little, high on her victory of him taking her to Ben Nevis. He was absolutely sure it was a terrible idea, but at the end of the day, he had warned her, and she had refused to heed him. He had done all he could do. Maybe he can convince her to wait outside the vault for him. </p><p>“Yes, it’s a—” Astoria starts, eyebrows raised. </p><p>“I know what it is. A traitor. A defector.” Draco interrupts, frowning at the slight insult to his intelligence. She tosses him a mischievous smile, letting him know she was teasing him. He narrows his eyes at her and jostles her with his leg. </p><p>“Get started.” Draco commands. Astoria rolls her eyes at his tone, but begins. </p><p>“A relative of the Prince, called after the brightest light in the constellation Leo, was among the Devourer’s most devout worshipers. However, he remained outside of the inner circle, oblivious to the secret workings of the Devourer and his most trusted followers. He followed a being of which he knew nearly nothing. He wanted glory, power, and his mind was ensnared by the promise of complete magical freedom. Most pressing, was his parent’s admiration for the Devourer. The relative was of a similar breed as the prince. For, as he may know, the word of the father is law.” </p><p>Draco had no idea who it could possibly be. He would just have to look at a map of the sky when he got home. He tries to remember where he stuffed his old Astronomy books. </p><p>“And, like the prince, this bright light was young. Just a mere boy on the precipice of manhood, with no real idea of what serving the Devourer entails. However, soon, the relative finds that the work is far more horrible than expected. He finds, like the price, he doesn’t quite have the stomach for torturing, maiming, and killing that his comrades possess. Lacking this lust for blood, the relative begins to look for a way out.” </p><p>Draco frowns. “There isn’t a way out. There never is. This story must not end well.” Astoria looks at him. </p><p>“I think it ends well enough.” Astoria says. “But I’ll finish, and you can decide that for yourself.” Draco nods, gesturing for her to continue. </p><p>“However, the bright light lacks the proper motivation to leave. He is afraid of death, of the consequences of defying the Devourer, and so he does nothing. But, every person has a breaking point, and the relative was soon to reach theirs. See, he was a rather lonely child, quiet, but intelligent. His one true friend, the one he trusted above all others, was no more than a common servant.” </p><p>Draco wonders. This person, whoever they are, seems unlikely to be related to him. He knows no family of his that would allow such a friendship. He wonders what his breaking point is, or, if he even has one?</p><p>“The Devourer hurt the servant and used him brutally. The relative entrusted the servant to him, not knowing the horrific plans the Devourer had orchestrated. And so, the servant and the relative together went to the hiding place of a sliver of soul belonging to the Devourer. The relative sacrificed his life, to deliver the sliver to the servants’ hands, all unbeknownst to the Devourer. The prince would do well to remember, that a sacrifice becomes easier to make, a risk easier to take, when one has someone worth fighting for.” </p><p>Draco looks at Astoria, who seems to be avoiding his gaze, although not purposefully. She is staring at the fire in the hearth. The flames are dancing in her dark eyes and the warm light reflects in her hair and on her skin, giving her a glowing look. He wonders if he could die for her. Perhaps, really, it is far too early for that. He hasn’t known her for very long. And yet, no one knows him better. It’s curious, how things work out like that sometimes. </p><p>“The sliver of soul found its way to the knight and was destroyed. The prince need not worry about this particular piece of the soul. The prince would do well to remember the knight and his friends were able to destroy many slivers without imminent death. The prince would do well to remember there are more ways to sacrifice one’s life, without dying.” </p><p>That was a relief. Maybe he wouldn’t have to die at all. Certainly, risk his life. But, at least there was a chance he would live. </p><p>“It’s over.” Astoria whispers. Draco sighs. That was, comparatively, not the worst story he has heard. </p><p>“Astoria?” </p><p>She turns to look at him, giving him a sad smile. Perhaps she is thinking of his death too. “The last line, what do you think it meant?” </p><p>“Oh, I don’t know, really. If I had to guess, though, I would say it means offering yourself to a greater purpose. You don’t necessarily need to die, but you are going to have to selflessly dedicate yourself to a cause. It isn’t an easy thing to do. To put aside what you want out of life.”</p><p>“Hm. Well, I’d prefer it to actual death.” </p><p>“I would prefer it as well.” Astoria is staring at him. She looks at his eyes a lot. It was a little unnerving at first, but he doesn’t mind it now. </p><p>“Are you afraid? Of death?” </p><p>Astoria laughs. “No, Draco. I’ve always known I was going to die.” </p><p>“Yes, yes. Everyone dies eventually. I just wasn’t planning on it any time soon.” Draco explains. Astoria shifts uncomfortably under his legs and he sits up, worried he may have been hurting her. He must weigh plenty more than her. Her face shifts to a fearful expression. She looks as though she is about to confess some terrible secret. </p><p>“No, Draco. I mean, I always knew I was going to die young.” She won’t look at him. She has retreated to the far corner of the couch and looks as if she wants to flee. She curls up her legs and wraps her arms around her knees. Draco feels relieved, having convinced himself she was about to tell him something horrible. She was only referring to her illness, which he knew couldn’t have been that serious. She looked fine. </p><p>“Not if you take the potions, Astoria. You’ll live for quite some time—” </p><p>“No.” She looks terrified of him. He moves forward slightly, but she presses herself to the back of the couch, sinking further into the cushions then he thought she could. </p><p>“No?” His heart drops. </p><p>“I mean, it depends what you mean by quite some time. If you mean I’ll live thirty more years, then, yes. It’s still only half a life.” </p><p>Draco is silent. He doesn’t want to think about that. Her dying. Although, when you are twenty-two, thirty years later seems like a lifetime. “It doesn’t matter.” he says, attempting to reassure her.  It’s the truth. He can hardly think that far in the future, but it doesn’t change what he feels in the present. Astoria, however, flinches at his words, looking aghast.</p><p>“Doesn’t matter? How can you say that? It <em> does </em> matter. It’s an incredibly big deal! I only live half a life, at best! And that’s if I don’t have children. Children could cut it by ten or more years. I’ll be dead at forty!” Her voice is high, in a frantic pitch he hasn’t heard from her before, even as he pointed his wand at her face, preparing to cast the killing curse her way. She had seemed so blasé about her illness earlier. It occurs to him that while she had accepted it herself long ago, she fears his rejection. Their society is not kind to those who are different, those who have a weakness. </p><p>He doesn’t wonder at her bringing up children. She is expected to have them. So is he. They all are. Not being able to have them is likely what got her the harsh death sentence in the first place. Bellatrix had said it herself, “useless.” In <em> her </em> eyes, at least.  </p><p>If he is honest, it is frightening. He doesn’t want to lose her. He can’t imagine that. But, that’s just it. He doesn’t want to be without her. He could stop whatever trajectory they are on with each other. But, he would still lose her. Lose her now, or lose her later? The choice is clear to him. </p><p>Astoria’s hands are trembling, and her fingers seem to be stumbling around, hands roving frantically, trying to find purchase on something. </p><p>“I didn’t mean it didn’t matter. It does matter. I meant that it doesn’t matter to me.” </p><p>“It should.” </p><p>Draco moves toward her and she has nowhere left to go. He cups her cheek. “No, no. I mean—” Fuck, he is not good at this. “Astoria. It matters to me that it matters to you. But, it doesn’t affect anything…anything regarding us.” he finishes lamely. </p><p>He grabs her shaking hand and places it on the inside of his cloak, near his side. It’s lined with soft, crushed velvet and her fingers gratefully latch on to the new material. He pulls her to him, and she doesn’t resist. Her eyes are casted downward, refusing to meet his. </p><p>“Look at me.” he says clearly, remembering to soften the demanding tone he sometimes has. Her eyes find his and they are filled with tears. Oh god. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know how to do this. In the past, had someone started showing too much emotion, he would have made an excuse and left. But, he can’t do that here, and he doesn’t want to. </p><p>“Why are you so upset? In the past, when you’ve mentioned it to me, you never got this upset. Even when Bellatrix brought it up at the trial, you didn’t get this upset. I don’t understand. Tell me. Please.” He winces. His tone sounds slightly frustrated, but it isn’t directed at her. It’s more so at himself. He needs her to tell him what is wrong, because he doesn’t know what he can say. He can’t fix the fact that she’s dying. He doesn’t know what to say about the children. He already told her that it didn’t affect how he felt about her. So what? What was he supposed to do? </p><p>“I’m afraid.” she whispers. </p><p>“Of what? Death?” Draco tries, rather desperately. </p><p>“No. Of being unwanted.” There we go. This he can deal with. Well, at least he can try. </p><p>“Unwanted by me?” Draco asks, brushing her hair out of her face. </p><p>“You. My family. Society. Anyone, really.” That made sense. He feels rather foolish for thinking it was merely his rejection she feared. Astoria wasn’t going to let a guy she had known a little over a week destroy her psyche. The fear clearly ran deeper than that. </p><p>She had reason to be afraid. People in their society were not kind to those who were cursed.  As awful as it was, she was likely considered a strain on resources at best, and a defective girl at worst.  Bellatrix had sentenced her death, using the books as an excuse. He wondered how long they had waited to get rid of her, waited to rid themselves of a sign that pure-blood didn’t always guarantee strength.  Nothing would make you feel more unwanted than being told you didn’t deserve to live. </p><p>He has been silent for too long. Astoria has looked away from him and is trying to pull away from him, looking stung. He pulls her into his lap. “Don’t. I was just thinking.” She nods, and stills, but won’t look at him. He will have to try to say something, although he doesn’t know what. Lovegood once told him that the best thing to say, is often what you truly feel. He had scoffed at her, but she had said, in her matter of fact way, “I would listen to me, Draco. I have far more friends than you.” Well, she had been right about that, and she may be right about this too. </p><p>“Astoria.” He whispers, titling her chin up, making her eyes find his. “<em> I </em> want you. That won’t change because of what you told me today.I wanted you yesterday, and I’ll want you tomorrow.  I want you <em> now </em>, Astoria.” He is slightly out of breath when he finishes, feeling slightly stupid. It wasn’t the best speech. His never are, and probably never would be. It was sadly, out of his wheelhouse.  </p><p>Her eyes are wide, and her hands have fisted in his shirt. Her head is tilted to the side, as though she can’t believe what she just heard. He leans down and kisses her tenderly, softly. And when he pulls back she is still staring at him, stunned. He can see the firelight reflected in her eyes again and he leans down, kissing her hard. </p><p>For a moment, he can feel her stop breathing. She shudders and makes a soft sound in the back of her throat. He digs his fingers in her hair, savoring the soft, silky, strands, and when her hands slide up his chest to the back of his neck, he groans. He pulls back. “Not want you? Do you have any idea how much I want you?” His lips trail her cheek, her temple, the line of her jaw. “It’s absurd. The very idea, that <em> I </em> don’t want <em> you. </em>” he breathes.  </p><p>His lips find hers again, arms encircling hers and gathering her against him. She pulls back, whispering “Draco, I want you. I want you too, and I—” He cuts her off, kissing her again. </p><p>“I know. I know. I wasn’t really concerned about that.” he jokes. She gives him a glare and opens her mouth, no doubt to tell him off, but he presses his lips to hers again too quickly, giving her a soft open-mouthed kiss. He needs to stop. It is incredibly hard to resist her, especially as she breathes his name, ticking his ear. But, it simply is not an appropriate time. Not while she is still trapped here, even if it’s not his fault. He lessens the intensity with each kiss, bringing them both down from the high. </p><p>“A story. I want one. About you.” he chokes out, still panting slightly, desperate to distract himself. </p><p>“About me? I told you that I didn’t really know what sort of story you wanted to hear.” She sounds breathless still, and her chest rises and falls rapidly. </p><p>“I don’t know. Any story really, as long as it’s about you.”</p><p>“I thought I already told you one.” </p><p>“Yes, but it was more about something you did. It didn’t really tell me anything about who you are.” </p><p>Astoria rests her head on his shoulder. She closes her eyes, thinking hard. He can practically see her scraping her mind for a story. </p><p>“On my property, out at the edge of our estate, there is a river that cuts through. It’s magically made, you see, so it begins and ends on our property.  It’s been there for centuries, ever since a Greengrass was gifted the land.” </p><p>Draco gathers her hair in his hand, and twists it up, allowing him to place soft kisses on the curve of her neck. She leans back against him further, leaning into his touch. </p><p>“There is a bridge that runs across the river. It’s made of glass that is supposedly charmed to be unbreakable. When the sunlight hits it, just right, it looks like its made of diamonds. Daphne and I loved to play there as children. We would bring our dolls, or brooms that father told us under no circumstances could our mother ever find out we had, and we would always bring a bag absolutely bursting with sweets.”  </p><p>“A diamond bridge. That sounds unbelievably pretentious.” He is teasing her and nips softly at her ear. She gasps, jolting slightly. He knows then that this story won’t really be about her, either. She doesn’t like to talk about herself, and he can understand that. </p><p>“No more pretentious than a peacock. You have all sorts of ridiculous structures at your home too. Besides, it’s glass, not diamond. Its tasteful.” </p><p>“I’m sure.” </p><p>“Do you want to hear the story or not?” she scolds. </p><p>“Mm. Testy today, hm?” Astoria elbows his side, not at all gently. </p><p>“Shut it.” She made a show of clearing her throat. “As I was saying…” She shoots him a look. </p><p>“Daphne and I liked to have stick races. Which, if you don’t know what that is, and you don’t, I can tell by your expression, it’s a game. First, you search the ground, and you find a stick that looks like it would be fast. They need to be slender, and short. You can’t break one off of a tree yourself, because that’s cheating. It’s all in finding the stick that is going to work the best yourself.” </p><p>“Work best for what? Sticks don’t move. How can they race?” </p><p>“I’m getting to that. You take your stick and drop it in the river on one side of the bridge, on the count of three. Then you let the current pull it to the other side of the bridge. Whichever stick gets out from under the bridge first, wins.” </p><p>“How do you tell which stick won? They will look the same!” </p><p>“They do not! I can tell. Mine always win. Don’t ask Daphne of course. She will tell you her sticks win, but it is absolutely not true!” Astoria is laughing. </p><p>“I saw your sister today. She didn’t look well.” Astoria stops laughing and looks at him. Draco feels bad for ruining her good mood, but he should probably tell her they talked. </p><p>“What? Why?” Astoria sits up and looks at him. </p><p>“She was shopping, rather, viciously? I don’t know. It looked odd. So, I went into Madame Malkins to talk to her, and she started asking me how you were?” </p><p>“In a shop? Where anyone could have heard?” </p><p>“We were careful. No one was in the shop and Madame Malkin was working in the back. Daphne talked a lot about you.” </p><p>“Oh god. All good things?” </p><p>“She feels guilty, Astoria. She was going to let you die.” </p><p>“Well, she should have let me die. If she would have done anything they just would have gone after her. I don’t want her to end up like my father.” she whispers quietly, shuddering in revulsion. A haunted look appears in her eyes, and she looks slightly sick. Draco remembers that she is the one who found her father’s body. </p><p>He has wanted to talk to her for a while, wanting to share what he had heard from Daphne at the party a couple nights ago. He had avoided bringing it up, since it was clearly an uncomfortable topic, but he decided he had to ask.  He was going to mention Andromeda, but this was more important. </p><p>“I don’t want to bring this up, but Daphne said something, when I was at her estate, a few nights ago. About your father.” </p><p>“We can talk about him. I don’t want to talk about what I saw. Not yet. But we can talk about the rest of it. What did she say?” Draco lets his thumb trace circles on the back of her hand.</p><p>“She told me that your father was trying to breed basilisks.”  Astoria’s face scrunches in confusions, and then, her face relaxes in sudden understanding. </p><p>“I see. If he did, then he told Daphne and not me. They were closer than we were. It would make sense though.” </p><p>“And why would it make sense?” Draco asks. </p><p>“I don’t know if you were around for this, or if you knew of it, but the Dark Lord banned basilisk breeding. It seemed very out of the blue. He also banned the use of fiendfyre. Everyone remarked what an odd combination that was to prohibit, but it wasn’t like anyone could do anything about it. My father was really upset about it, because the Dark Lord had promised not to limit magic. My father was rather attached to fiendfyre, you see. So, I suppose he decided he wasn’t going to follow the ordinance. If we know Theo killed him, then I guess he was ordered. Maybe he lied about it to spare Daphne’s feelings. I don’t know.”</p><p>“That’s what Daphne seemed to think. Listen, this is going to sound like a weird request, but does your father have the fangs, from the basilisk?” If Draco could get the fang, it would make his job so much easier. </p><p>“What? I don’t know. I don’t think so. He never told me if he did. Daphne might know.” He tried to fight the disappointment rising in him. Something occurs to him. He still can’t quite understand Nott’s motivation to orchestrate Astoria’s death. If he killed her father, and she knew it wasn’t a suicide, why did it matter?  He was ordered by the Dark Lord to kill him and he would face no punishment. It couldn’t be to prevent Daphne from finding out, because she already knew. So what? Why Astoria? What made her worth all this trouble? </p><p>“Astoria. We know Nott wanted to get rid of you. But I don’t think it’s because you knew your father didn’t take his own life. Do you know why?” </p><p>“I don’t.” her fingers stroke the fabric of his shirt and she stares intently at her hands, focusing on their movements. </p><p>“Astoria. What did you see? Anything?” He grabs her cheeks with his hands. He cups her face and says “If you can’t tell me, show me. Let me use legilimency—.” </p><p>“No. Please. No.” she whispers.</p><p>“Astoria—” </p><p>“No! Please. Don’t make me! Okay? Don’t. I can’t.” She is shaking now, and he has to hold her up. She has just shouted, and she is breathing hard, her chest rising and falling. Her eyes are wide and frightened. </p><p>“I’m not going to make you, okay? But, listen. It’s important. I need to know.” </p><p>“I can’t. The memories are blocked, okay? I can’t exactly remember what I saw! Every time I try to think about it, it hurts!” She is getting more and more frantic. He feels incredibly guilty, but he can’t shake the feeling that it’s important. </p><p>“Okay. You can’t. That’s fine. If you can’t do it, you can’t do it.” </p><p>“I’m sorry.” she whispers. She looks at him hesitantly. </p><p>“Don’t be.” He kisses her gently and waits until she has calmed down a bit. Whatever happened was obviously extremely traumatic. Every family has skeletons in the closet, but he is starting to worry the Greengrass family may be far more complicated than he had anticipated. </p><p>He disentangles himself from her very slowly. She looks worried, and she says “Are you angry with me?” </p><p>“No, I’m not. I’m just going to get some sleep. We have a long day tomorrow.” She relaxes slightly, but he can still see she is bothered. He shouldn’t have pushed her so hard. He just had a bad feeling about this. He has avoided talking about it for as long as could. </p><p>Draco kicks off his shoes and Astoria sighs in relief. She must have thought he was getting up to leave. He takes off his cloak and tosses it to her, remembering what Daphne said would happen should she catch a cold. He collapses down on the couch opposite hers. Astoria has pulled his cloak around herself and is cradling her new wand to her chest. </p><p>Draco is exhausted. He isn’t good at expressing emotions or dealing with people who demonstrate more than a small range of feelings. It is oddly refreshing, though, to have someone express their emotions so freely, especially in the world they live in. Everything is always so bleak and flat. It’s a kind of bravery, to allow yourself to feel that strongly. Especially when the feelings aren’t pleasant. </p><p>He plans to wait until she falls asleep to drift off himself, but he is too tired to keep it up. He is watching her, when his eyes slip closed, sleep claiming him. </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0046"><h2>46. Astoria</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Draco has fallen asleep, and Astoria can hear his slowed breathing. She has made quite the spectacle of herself today. She flushes with embarrassment. Not only did she have an outburst about her malediction, she also managed to freak him out about her dad as well. She believes Draco when he says her father’s death is somehow important, but she was telling the truth. Time and time again, she has tried to remember what she saw, but the memory always slips through her grasp, and any attempt to retrieve it from her mind is met with considerable amounts of pain. </p><p>Draco is right, of course. If she can, she really should try to remember. She closes her eyes. </p><p>She can see herself, walking down the hall, toward her father’s private library. She was going to ask him if he would take her to Flourish and Blots this evening. Normally, she would have asked her sister, but Daphne and Pansy had gone to France on holiday for a girl’s trip. Theodore had paid for it, for the three of them, but Astoria claimed she was feeling too under the weather to go. She didn’t want to spend a week being dragged to every boutique in Wizarding France. Daphne hadn’t wanted to leave her, but Theo had insisted. So, her father was the only one who could take her to the shop.  Astoria had half a mind to go herself, but her family hated it when she went anywhere without an escort. It didn’t matter if she was of age, she never went anywhere by herself. </p><p>She could hear voices in her father’s private library. She recognized them as Theo and Rowle and she guessed they were talking to her father. She can’t make out what they are saying, but her father must have been listening intently, because he hadn’t said anything yet.  Astoria grimaced. Theo used to be alright, but Rowle? He was always messed up. She considered turning around, and asking later, but she wasn’t going to let Theodore and Rowle dictate when she can talk to her father. She smiled. Her father would consider the interruption welcome. He had lost taste for Theodore over the years, and had never liked Rowle. She opened the door. </p><p>Her father’s body was hanging upside down and his head was nearly separated from his neck, reminding her of a gristly looking Nearly Headless Nick. His eyes were rolled back into his skull and she could only see the whites of his eyes. His blood had  coated the floor, the wall, the bookshelves, like red paint that had been poured into the library, splattered everywhere like some awful piece of abstract art. </p><p>She turns to see Rowle and Theo standing over something and—. Blinding white pain fills her skull, just like always. She can’t see or hear anything else. The next thing she remembers is lying in her bed, Daphne hovering over her with Theodore patting Daphne’s back whispering that he was sure Astoria would be all right. He hugs Daphne and when Daphne’s face is buried in his chest, he gives Astoria the nastiest, coldest, look she has ever seen. She has seen the Dark Lord once, and only once, and Theodore was nearly just as terrifying. Rowle was leaning against the door frame, giving her a twisted smile. She feels sick to her stomach. </p><p>She thinks back to right before the memory cuts out. She leans into the pain, letting it roll over her, trying to push through whatever is stopping her from accessing her own thoughts. It’s almost unbearable, and it feels like her mind might be tearing in two. </p><p>Astoria gasps, clutching her head. The pain is vicious. She looks over toward Draco, worried she woke him, but he is still sleeping. She wonders if he can remove the block somehow. Part of her knows that once she remembers what she saw, there won’t be any going back. How can she ask Draco to be brave when she is unwilling to do so herself? </p><p>Daphne is worried about how she left Astoria to die? What about Astoria? If she holds one of Theodore’s terrible secrets, something that could hurt Daphne, and she can’t remember it, is she any better? </p><p>She tries again, and just like before, when she gets to Theodore and Rowle, standing over something, the pain is there, like her mind is being slammed against a solid wall, crushed against some impenetrable mass. She tries again and again, the pain increasing each time. Someone is shaking her, and for a moment, she thinks it might be Rowle. </p><p>“Astoria! Hey! What the hell?” Draco is shaking her, all traces of sleep faded from his features. He is looking at her like she has grown two heads. </p><p>“I’m alright! I’m alright!”  Astoria feels slightly embarrassed, her head still pounding. She wonders if at one point she had been screaming. </p><p>“What the hell were you doing? Merlin, Astoria. I thought we were sleeping!” Draco kneels in front of her, the adrenaline starting to fade, only to be replaced by annoyance. Astoria felt bad. It probably should have waited until morning. The thought of Daphne being hurt had momentarily made her desperate. </p><p>“I just…I was trying to remember. But, it’s like I said, I just hit this wall, or something. It starts to hurt and I can’t go any farther.” Astoria turns away from Draco who has his head in his hands. “I didn’t mean to be so loud.” Draco seems to deflate slightly. Maybe he wasn’t annoyed, just tense. </p><p>“No, no. You weren’t that loud. I’m just a light sleeper. You were just, breathing really hard, and you looked like you might have been seizing a little.” Astoria gets the sense he might be lying to save her the embarrassment. </p><p>“I’m sorry. You need to sleep. I just got worried about Daphne. I know it’s something horrible, but I don’t know what. She sleeps in the same bed as him! I mean, he could really hurt her, Draco.” Draco looks at her and considers what she said. </p><p>“Astoria, is it a self-inflicted block? Do you just not want to remember? I mean, I understand. I didn’t mean for you to do all of this tonight.” He stands up slowly, and goes to the kitchen, grabbing a butterbeer from one of the bags he brought. The sugar seems to wake him up a bit. “Merlin, Astoria. I am beginning to think you are absolutely barking mad.” Astoria fidgets nervously. </p><p>“I wasn’t having any sort of mental breakdown! I just was trying really hard to remember.  It sort of reminded me of occlumency, except I’m trying to break through and not suppress.” </p><p>“Relax. I think you’re mad, but I probably am a bit too, so I won’t judge. I just happen to be better at hiding it.” Draco says pointedly. “And anyway. The best time to try all of that, might not be late at night.” </p><p>Astoria doesn’t say anything. She feels small and insignificant. Not to mention, she does feel slightly crazy. Who unloads this much on someone after what, seven days of knowing someone? What was today? Tell someone you’ve only kissed five times every dark secret about yourself day? She felt like the most vapid, idiotic, incompetent, witch in the entire whole of Wizarding Britain. Maybe some American witch had her beat, but only just barely. </p><p>Draco and she weren’t even together. After tonight, he wouldn’t want anything to do with her. It wasn’t fair to dump so much on a person in just one day. “Look, I’m sorry to have woken you. It really wasn’t intentional. I  just thought I could do it quietly, and tell you in the morning. I underestimated how much commotion it would cause.” Draco shoots her a look, and not a very kind one. Grouchy. “Listen. I think I’m going to go upstairs. I might be more comfortable up there. The couch is starting to hurt my back. Unless you want the bed?” Draco waves his hand, indicating she can take it. She leaves his cloak on the couch and Draco stares at the discarded garment. </p><p>Astoria heads upstairs, trying to let the stairs creak as little as possible. She can sense he is annoyed with her, and she wants to give him space. She doesn’t get in the bed, but sinks into a small armchair in the corner of the room.  This room lacks the fire downstairs, and is unbelievably cold. She feels her heart start to race and she groans, letting her fingers trail along the zipper of her coat, feeling the little ridges. </p><p>Daphne always told her she had anxiety, but Astoria told her to stop talking about it. Astoria was already dying. She didn’t need anything else to add to her plate. She wanted to cry, but she refused to let herself. With her luck, Draco would hear her. He was probably still lamenting his lack of sleep.</p><p>She is singing a song her sister used to play on the harp when they were young, very softly. Astoria had gone through the obligatory years of music lessons, choosing vocals. Of course, Daphne had been talented, and Astoria squawked like a bird. Daphne had loved the harp. Theo hated music, so she didn’t get to play much anymore. </p><p>She is hoping if she sings, she won’t cry. </p><p>Astoria hears a knock on the door. She gets up and opens the door. Draco is standing there, looking slightly less tired. “You were signing.”<br/>
Astoria narrows her eyes at him. “Okay, look. There is no way you could have possibly heard that from down there. It couldn’t have kept you awake! I could barely hear myself!” Astoria says barely containing her exasperation.  </p><p>“You didn’t. I could hear you from outside the door.  I came to talk to you.” Astoria narrows her eyes, about to tell him he should go back to sleep. “I didn’t know you sang.” Draco says, pushing past her before strolling into the bedroom, plopping down on the bed. </p><p>“I took lessons.” Astoria says, resuming her place in the armchair. </p><p>“Fat lot of good they did.” Draco says, giving her a smirk. Astoria flushes in embarrassment and anger. </p><p>“Well, I thought you were oh so tired. Shouldn’t you be sleeping instead of lurking?” Astoria asks, voice dripping with sarcasm. </p><p>“Lurking? I wouldn’t call it lurking.”</p><p>“Oh? What would you call it?” Astoria huffs. </p><p>“Front row seats to the worst concert of my life?” Astoria takes a threadbare cushion from  the armchair and flings it at him. </p><p>“You’ve just been impossible. I’m sorry I woke you up, but you’ve already more than clearly expressed your displeasure with me. I wish you would stop being so dramatic about it, as it’s only half past ten, not bloody three in the morning!  Now, why don’t you just take yourself to bed instead, because if I have to listen to you one more moment, I’ll take you there myself!” Astoria is fuming, which only seems to encourage Draco. He sits up, his smirk deepening. </p><p>“Why Greengrass? I had no idea you were so eager to take me to bed.” His eyes flash, but Astoria is up and striding to the small bathroom, turning the lock behind her, desperate for some type of barrier. </p><p>There. That will keep him out. And it would have. If Draco had been a muggle. </p><p>“Alohomora.” Draco strides in, shaking his head in amusement. </p><p>“Get out.” </p><p>“Come on, Astoria. You walked right into that one.” The bathroom is incredibly small, and Draco with his long limbs, takes up entirely too much space. </p><p>“Please leave. Respect my space.” Astoria says calmly, lightly pushing on his chest. Draco catches her hands. </p><p>“I happen to like being in your space.” Draco leans in, but Astoria ducks underneath his arm and storms out of the bathroom. Astoria has to fight the little flutters in her chest at his words. “Look. I came to talk to you, seriously.” Draco follows her out and throws himself over the bed, yet again. </p><p>“Fine. Talk.” Astoria is staring out the window, watching one of those big machines drive by. She’s seen them out this window frequently, and they are quite terrifying. She knows that the muggles call them “cars” but they look incredibly dangerous to her. </p><p>She sits back in the armchair with a sigh. “I’m waiting.” </p><p>“I thought you were dying.” Draco says, staring at his hands which are clasped in front of him. </p><p>“Sorry?” Astoria’s brow furrows. Dying? </p><p>“I mean, you were just lying there with this awful look on your face, sort of shaking, seizing, and I thought you were dying. Because of your...curse. But you weren’t. You were fine.” Draco looks up at her, and Astoria nods her head. </p><p>“I’m not just going to drop dead.” Astoria scoffs. Merlin, this is why she didn’t tell people. Now every single thing she does, he will be over her shoulder, thinking ‘Oh yes. That will do it. This will finish her off for sure.’ </p><p>“You scared me. I’m sorry I was short with you, but you scared me.” His stare is intense and she shifts uncomfortably. </p><p>“Sorry. I am fine, though.” Astoria does feel bad. “It doesn’t work like that. When I’m about to die, you’ll know. It will be a progression, not all of a sudden.” Draco nods and sinks into the bed, closing his eyes. Astoria watches him for a few moments. “I’m not crazy.” she whispers. </p><p>“Greengrass, I’m the last person to call anyone crazy. You had a rough night. That’s okay. I don’t think shedding a few tears and shouting quite qualifies.” Astoria stays quiet, running her fingers over the fabric of the armchair. It’s rougher and itchier than the couch downstairs. “Telling me how you feel doesn't make you crazy either.” Draco adds. And when she still doesn’t respond, Draco opens one eye to look at her. </p><p>“You <em> did </em> call me crazy.” Astoria finally says. </p><p>“I believe my exact wording was ‘barking mad’.” Astoria gives him an unamused look. Draco sighs and starts talking. </p><p>“One time, right after I left Hogwarts, I was at home. There was this big, floor length mirror in my bedroom. I got so tired of looking at myself, that I hit it, again, and again, until it shattered. My entire fist was so mangled, that the house elf near fainted when it saw what I had done.” </p><p>Astoria stares at Draco and opens her mouth to say something, but he keeps going. Draco’s face is screwed into an expression of utter horror, as if he can’t believe what he just said. But he keeps going, as if he can’t stop the torrent of words. </p><p>“And, so I thought if I left the country, things would get better. But, I was still fucked up. I used to go to high places, like cliffs or mountains, or the top of buildings. I would stand at the very edge for probably about ten minutes, before jumping off. I would fall and fall. I would wait to cast the cushioning charm, and not until the very last second, when it was almost too late. Sometimes, on the way down, I wouldn’t have even decided if I was going to cast it.” </p><p>Astoria stays quiet, sensing he isn’t done yet. </p><p>“I would lie to people, Astoria. All the time. I would go to a different wizarding bar, club, anywhere, and pretend to be someone completely different. I would fabricate and create all these new identities, names, and personalities, and I’d go home with a different girl every night. I just didn’t want to be myself. I wanted to be somebody else, anyone else.” </p><p>Astoria leans forward slightly, listening silently. </p><p>“You aren’t mad, Astoria. Not like I am. Believe me, you aren’t.” Draco must be done because he stands up and makes for the door, eyes wide and frightened, an expression of disbelief on his face, as if he cannot believe the words that came out of his mouth. </p><p>“Draco—” she calls out, but he is already left, quietly shutting the door behind him. This is all such a mess. Normally, you might tell someone these things a little bit at a time, slowly developing trust and getting to know a person. But, when they lived in a world where you couldn’t tell anyone anything, when you never knew who to trust, it was hard to keep from dumping everything on someone, especially when you finally found someone you felt like you could confide in. </p><p>After a few minutes, Astoria exits the bedroom and softly pads downstairs. Draco is lying down on the couch staring at the floor. She creeps over quietly and when he looks up at her she lies down next to him, moving to push her fingers through his hair. Draco snakes his arms around her, hesitantly, cautiously, as though he is scared that she will vanish. </p><p>“How long did you do those things for?” she whispers quietly. </p><p>“Two years.” he whispers back, leaning into her touch, letting his eyes slip closed as he enjoys her fingers stroking his hair. </p><p>“I’m glad you used the cushioning charm.” she murmurs. She wants to kiss him, but she doesn’t really like initiating that sort of thing. She doesn’t really know how. </p><p>He lets out a short laugh. “Me too.” </p><p>Astoria studies his face, and although his eyes are closed, his brow is creased and his shoulders are tense. “I want you.” she breathes softly, not sure if it’s the right thing to say. Draco opens his eyes and stares at her, his expression cloudy. He leans in and kisses her, delicately. </p><p>Astoria slips her eyes closed and keeps her fingers in his hair, enjoying how soft it feels. “I thought about what you said.” Draco murmurs. </p><p>“Hm?” </p><p>“The pain. When you try to remember? Someone could have done a shoddy memory charm. If it’s weak enough, the memories are still there. That would explain the pain. It will be hard to access them, but maybe if I can use legilimency to help you, you can get them back.” </p><p>“Okay. I would appreciate that.” Draco presses a kiss to her temple. </p><p>“Sure. Listen, we don’t have to, though. Seriously. I didn’t mean to push you.” Astoria plays with the hair at the nape of his neck. </p><p>“I want to. I have to.” Draco nods in agreement and Astoria listens as his breathing becomes deeper, feeling his chest rise and fall. She can feel herself falling asleep, and Draco murmurs something she doesn’t quite catch, before she lets sleep claim her.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0047"><h2>47. Draco</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Draco wakes up the next morning, Astoria is curled into his side, still asleep. He knows when she wakes up, it will be awkward. Last night had been awkward. It felt strangely nice, though. Telling someone these things after years of keeping it quiet, and bottled up. It was freeing and it made him feel so much lighter. He never talked to anyone about how he was feeling. He didn’t have friends, not one’s he felt he could be vulnerable with, anyway. He would never talk to his parents about anything involving what he was feeling. </p><p>This was part of why he was so infatuated with her. No one else has ever been so emotive and expressive with him. She is the only person he has seen, in what feels like forever, that is genuine, raw, and unguarded. It aggravated him sometimes, that she would get so worked up and lose her composure, but most of the time, he appreciated her inability to keep her emotions quiet and controlled. It made him feel like he could open up to her. If she could do it so easily, seemingly without even thinking about it, then he could too. </p><p> </p><p>She is beginning to stir softly and when she opens her eyes to find him looking at her, she sits up slowly, rubbing her face, trying to wake up. “We should get going.” she murmurs. She is avoiding his gaze and the air is filled with tension. Neither of them are quite sure how to act after last night. </p><p>Draco gets up and holds his hand out to help her stand. She takes it and when he pulls her up, she makes eye contact with him for a brief moment, before turning away quickly. She tugs her hand out of his grasp and makes her way upstairs, heading toward the tiny washroom. </p><p>Draco sighs. Today, he was going to break into his Aunt’s secret cave, filled with horrors and treasures that she had hidden away from the world. Today, he was going to get a horcrux. </p><p>He retrieves the clothes he had bought for himself from a bag and changes into the jeans. He slips off his dress shirt and is about to put on the T-shirt, when he hears a startled gasp. Astoria is standing at the top of the stairs, frozen in place. </p><p>“Sorry.” she whispers and heads back to the cover of the washroom. Draco rolls his eyes, and tugs on his boots.</p><p>When she finally comes downstairs, he says “You’ve seen me shirtless before.” She turns red. </p><p>“That was different. This was an accident.” Astoria mumbles. </p><p>“I’ll try to forgive you for ogling me.” Draco says, in mock graciousness. </p><p>“I was not.” Astoria hisses. </p><p>“I should hope not. I have my virtue to protect.” Draco nudges her with his shoulder. </p><p>Astoria scoffs, but her face breaks into a grin. She heads into the kitchen and pulls out a dishrag. “Diffindo.” she mutters, making strips of cloth. “That spell worked well.” Astoria says, grinning at him in triumph. </p><p>“Yes. If we run into Death Eaters, you can make tears in their clothes.” Astoria rolls her eyes. “I’m being serious. As a Death Eater, I can assure you, holes in the uniform is quite a pain. It would really be a nuisance.” </p><p>“You are the nuisance.” Astoria quips, taking a strip of cloth and braiding her hair back, using the strip to tie it. Draco snorts. </p><p>“I must say, that is quite the hair ribbon.” </p><p>“It’s resourceful. I’m making do.” </p><p>Draco grabs his wand and pulls on his coat. “I don’t know if I can look at it all day.” </p><p>“You’ll manage.” But, Astoria does pull the braid over her shoulder. She runs her wand over the cloth, until it begins to look a little bit like a blue velvet ribbon. If Draco squints. Really hard. </p><p>“Well,<em> that </em> is an improvement.” Draco mocks. </p><p>“Are you ready? Or will you continue to discuss my ribbon all morning.” </p><p>“Ribbon? Or rag?” Draco asks. Astoria narrows her eyes. Draco raises his hands in surrender. “I’m ready. So, Ben Nevis is in Scotland, and actually, is relatively close to Hogwarts. Now, I was planning on apparating to Hogsmeade, but I have you with me. And, since you are supposed to be dead, I can’t exactly show up to the Three Broomsticks with you in tow.” </p><p>“But then how—” Astoria starts. </p><p>“Let me finish. We are going to have to take a little bit of a detour. I’ve been to Glasgow, so we are going to apparate there and then take muggle transportation to Fort William. There, we can get access to the mountain. It will add several hours, but I want to get to the cave at night, anyway. Darkness will provide better coverage.” </p><p>“Are you sure? I can apparate to Hogsmeade. If I wear your cloak, maybe they won’t see me.” Astoria offers. </p><p>“Glasgow is a safer bet. And you apparate us? Not a chance. Not when you can barely do charms from second year. I’d rather not be splinched.” Astoria frowns, but Draco is pushing her out the door, muttering that they can’t stand here all day arguing. </p><p>Draco steps outside and  shivers at the cold. It’s fairly early in the morning and the sun hasn’t warmed the air yet. Draco grabs Astoria’s hand, and pictures Glasgow Central Station. He hopes he remembers it clear enough to get them there. </p><p>One moment, he feels a lurching, pulling, feeling, and the next he is standing in the middle of the busy train station, with Astoria clutching his hand. Several muggles give him startled looks, and it occurs to him that his appearing seemingly out of thin air with a girl on his arm, may not have been the best idea. </p><p>Draco walks briskly forward, pulling Astoria along, acting as if nothing was amiss. The muggles that noticed him give him a strange look, but all of them shrug it off, going on about their day. Draco walks up to the ticket booth, and pulls muggle money out of his pocket, a portion of his transfigured galleons from yesterday. Astoria is watching him make the transaction, looking very impressed. He tries not to laugh at her. </p><p>“Have you been here before?” Astoria asks, curiosity filling her tone, as she looks around with wide eyes, taking in the bustling terminal, filled with people on their way to work. </p><p>“Yes.” Draco says curtly, not wanting to provide more information. He’d been here tracking the order. He thought they may have remained close to Hogwarts, in the beginning of his four year long, unsuccessful search. That had not proved to be the case. </p><p>He takes the tickets from the lady working the booth and she gives him a flirtatious smile. Astoria looks startled at that and he smirks down at her. As they turn away, he murmurs “I do well in Glasgow.” </p><p>“With the muggles.” Astoria retorts, grabbing his coat sleeve anxiously, as a man in a suit carrying a briefcase and shouting into a small metal box with an antenna pushes past her, almost knocking her to the ground. </p><p>Draco reaches his arm out to steady her, and she latches onto his hand, eyeing the muggles nervously. Draco knows she doesn’t dislike muggles. He can tell from the way she gives a small child trailing after his mother a shy smile. But, she looks nervous around them, as if any moment, one might decide she looks suspicious. </p><p>“Do they still burn witches?” she whispers nervously. Draco rolls his eyes </p><p>“Only the annoying ones.” he offers. Astoria looks at him, eyes filled with fear. He shakes his head at her, giving her a smirk.</p><p>“Relax. We need to board the train.” Draco pulls her to the correct platform, trying to remember how muggle trains worked. Taking a bus would have been one hour faster, but Astoria was familiar with trains, and he didn’t want to freak her out too much. From the way she had been eyeing that car last night, she wasn’t a fan of vehicles. </p><p>They board the train, and manage to find two seats in the back. Astoria is staring at everyone, taking each person in. A muggle who looks to be in his late twenties sees Astoria looking at him, and raises his eyebrows, giving her a suggestive smile. Astoria turns red and gives Draco a frightened look. He rolls his eyes at her. “Stop staring. Muggles don’t like that.” </p><p>“Oh. I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t offend.” Astoria resolutely looks at the floor, staring at one spot very hard, as though trying to make sure she doesn’t get distracted and look at someone.  The muggle is still trying to catch Astoria’s eye, and when Astoria isn’t looking, Draco gives him a sneer. </p><p>“You can look around Astoria. Just don’t stare at one person for longer than a second.” Astoria nods and he watches her smooth her fingers over the seat. Wizards didn’t have, what was it called? Lastick? Platnick? Well, whatever, it was a weird material in Draco’s opinion. Muggles seem to have a lot of things made out of it though. </p><p>The train finally starts moving, and Astoria grips the seat. This train moved a lot faster than the Hogwarts Express, and looked a lot different. Draco remembers being surprised his first time on a train like this as well. “Oh my.” Astoria whispers, watching the speed at which the platform disappears behind them. </p><p>“Have you ever ridden on a train?” Astoria asks Draco. Draco rolls his eyes.</p><p> “Yes. Four times a year for seven years. You know, to Hog— I mean, school.” </p><p>“No, I mean a train like this.” Astoria eyes the seats around them, her eyes widening at a device that was thin, and metal, with long white wires that connected to a woman’s ears. </p><p>“Yes. Several times.” Draco says, enjoying the way Astoria gives him a look of pride, as though it is the most remarkable thing she has ever heard of. </p><p>“How do you think students got to Hog— school before the train?” </p><p>“They rode dragons, I suspect.” Draco says, teasingly. In truth he has no idea. A woman gives him an odd look at his mention of dragons. </p><p>“Where all have you traveled?” Astoria asks, turning to look at him, tearing her eyes away from a  teenage girl's low-rise, bedazzled jeans. </p><p>“Most of Europe. The Americas. A little bit of Africa, just Egypt, Morocco, Tanzania, and South Africa. And Australia.”  </p><p>“Oh, wow. Well-traveled. Where is your favorite place?” A strand has escaped her careful braid, and he tucks it behind her ear. </p><p>“Russia. Moscow, actually.”  Draco had loved it there. It was cold, just how he liked it, and no one there lived in fear of the Dark Lord. All the other countries were terrified that the Dark Lord would move from Wizarding Britain. And, they were right to be afraid. But, Russia? That would be the hardest country to take, and the Russian wizards seem to know it. </p><p>“Why?” Astoria places her head on his shoulder, drawing her coat tighter around her. She always seemed cold. He wishes he would have thought to place a warming charm on her coat. He would have to once they were in private. He shifts so she can tuck into his side, letting her share his body heat. </p><p>“Well, I liked the cold. And, the culture. Everyone there just, minds their own business. I found that the temperament fit my personality well. I made friends easier there. “ Astoria tucks her hands into her coat pocket. </p><p>“Oh?” </p><p>“Yes. And, the food was good. The quidditch there is fantastic, too. I’ll take you to see a game sometime. They ride, giant, uprooted trees, instead of brooms.” </p><p>“Really? How do they manage?” Astoria says, looking pleased that he mentioned he would take her to see a game. </p><p>“I don’t know. The seeker does moves that I think are impossible.” Draco laughs. The woman gives him a horrified look. mumbling something about “Dungeons and Dragons. My son is always playing that ridiculous game.” </p><p>Draco gives Astoria a teasing look, placing his finger on his lips. Astoria looks nervous but Draco gives her a reassuring look. </p><p>“You should sleep. We will be walking a lot today. It’s quite the hike.” Draco suggests. </p><p>“You are always telling me to sleep.” Astoria grumbles, but she slips her eyes closed. They were up late last night, and they got up early this morning. </p><p>Astoria rests for nearly two hours, leaning against him, her breath tickling his ear. When she wakes up, she sits up slowly. “How much longer?” she asks, her breath thick with sleep. </p><p>“Two more hours.” </p><p>“You could sleep. I’ll wake you up when we get to Fort William. They’ll announce it, right?” Astoria turns and looks at him. </p><p>“I’m not tired.” Draco would like to sleep, but he doesn’t really trust that Astoria will know enough about the train to ensure they don’t miss their stop. </p><p>“I’ve got it, Draco.” He sighs, but closes his eyes. He is tired. The rhythm of the train quickly makes him tired, and he leans back, crossing his arms, letting himself slip off. </p><p>Astoria is shaking him awake in what feels like no time at all. “I think we missed it.” She gives him an apologetic look. Draco clenches his jaw. </p><p>“It’s fine.” He grits his teeth. But, when he looks at her, she is giving him a teasing smile. </p><p>“Kidding. We get off in five minutes. “ Draco shakes his head at her proud expression. </p><p>“And you didn’t think I could do it. Oh ye of little faith.” Astoria chides. </p><p>“Don’t get a big head.” Draco cautions. Astoria smiles. </p><p>“I’m impressed you didn’t shout at me, honestly.” </p><p>“I wouldn't have shouted. I probably would have pitched you out the train though. Let you fend for yourself on the tracks.” </p><p>The train stutters to a stop and Draco stands, offering his hand to Astoria. She grabs it and he pulls her up, helping her get to the end of the train, as the crowd bustled to the door. Someone elbowed him in the side on his way out, and he lets out a grunt of pain. Astoria opens her mouth, probably to ask if he’s alright, but he shakes his head.</p><p>They manage to get out of the Fort William railway station and into the town’s center. It’s around four in the afternoon, and it’s already starting to get dark. Draco ducks into an inn, with Astoria following close behind him. </p><p>“Are we getting a room?” she asks, cheeks red and her voice at a strange pitch. Draco smirks. </p><p>“Yes. But we aren’t staying. It’s a decoy. If anyone tracks us this far, they will think we are staying at the inn.” Draco explains. He walks up to the woman at the counter, who looks up and gives him a bright smile. Draco gives her a tight, awkward one in return. When she turns to Astoria, she gives her an even bigger smile, which Astoria doesn't notice, because she is looking at the ground. “Don’t stare.” he hears her whisper to herself. He rolls his eyes, giving the woman an apologetic smile. </p><p>“She’s shy.” he mouths, and the woman nods knowingly. </p><p>“A room for you two tonight?” the woman asks. Draco nods. </p><p>“Yes. That would be great.” Draco says, trying to keep his voice light and friendly. </p><p>“Right, let’s see here. What sort of room are you looking for?” </p><p>“The standard is fine.” Astoria is stealing glances at her surroundings every chance she gets. She is eyeing the muggles in the pub and when one guy drunkenly yells at an old game on TV she jumps, eyes widening at the box. </p><p>The woman moves to grab a key. While her back is turned, Draco leans down and whispers in Astoria’s ear. “It’s a TV. It’s like a portrait, but the scene changes a lot, and the people in the picture play games or put on shows.” </p><p>“TV.” Astoria whispers in wonder. “I’ve seen one of those at the Black Market, but the picture was black.” </p><p>The woman is back. “Alright, let me set you up with our complementary—” </p><p>“We are kind of in a hurry.” Draco interrupts. Astoria gives him a look. “Don’t be rude.” she hisses, looking at the woman, frightened, before looking away again quickly. Wouldn’t want to stare. </p><p>The woman just laughs. “Ah! Newlyweds I see. Not to worry. I have no doubt you are eager to get started on your honeymoon. Can’t wait to jump each other, I bet!” Astoria lets out a strangled noise of embarrassment. Draco is in awe of the woman’s gall, but notices her flushed cheeks. Ah, she was a little drunk. Must have been enjoying the inns pub before her shift. </p><p>The woman winks and hands him the key. “That’ll be sixty.” </p><p>“Right.” Draco takes the cash, and gives it to the woman, before pulling Astoria up the stars. They walk down the hall until they get to their room and Draco shoves Astoria in, before pulling the door shut. Draco walks in and sits on the bed.</p><p>“We’ll wait for dark. Then we will hike up. the mountain. I did some research, and I think the vault will be near an old observatory up top.” Draco eyes Astoria who is still standing by the door, looking rather uncomfortable. </p><p>“How long until dark?” Astoria asks softly. Draco motions for her to sit down but she doesn’t. </p><p>“About and hour. Are you planning to stand there until then?” </p><p>“No.” Astoria murmurs, sitting beside him. </p><p>“Well, I suppose we will have to find some way to pass the time.” Draco says, leaning back against the headboard. Astoria crawls across the covers to the bedside lamp, eyes lighting up when she pulls the string, and the light comes on.  “We could jump each other.” Draco suggests nonchalantly, smirking as Astoria nearly fell of the bed. </p><p>“We are on a mission!” She shrieked. </p><p>“I’ll make it my mission.” </p><p>Astoria may be blushing harder than he has ever seen her blush before, and she shakes her head. </p><p>“Or, I could show you the TV.” Draco suggests, nudging her with his knee, to let her know he wasn’t serious. “Like I said earlier, I have to protect my virtue.” Astoria smiles to herself, but her fingers are tracing the duvet, which has little flowers stitched on it.  </p><p>Draco grabs the remote and turns it on. He hands it to Astoria and shows her how to change the channel. She stands and walks until she is right in front of the TV and holds the remote right against the screen. </p><p>“Astoria. You can do it from back here.” He doesn’t really watch the TV. It’s not nearly as entertaining as watching Astoria try to figure it out, or her reaction to the shows. </p><p>“What’s this?” </p><p>“The News.” </p><p>“Ohhh. And this one?” </p><p>“Football. Like quidditch. But, no brooms. And there is only one ball. And there are no hoops.” </p><p>“So, nothing like quidditch?” </p><p>An hour later, Draco shuts the TV off, grabs his coat and ushers Astoria out the door. “Got your wand?” he asks. </p><p>“Yes.” </p><p>They arrive at Achintee, near Glen Nevis after a two mile walk, close to 7:30 p.m. “Try to cast a warming charm on your coat. See how that works out.” Draco suggests, casting one himself. It takes Astoria a few tries, but she gets it in the end. Draco touches the coat to make sure it’s actually warm. It is. </p><p>“I thought we were climbing a mountain.” Astoria remarks, when they are nearly a tenth of a mile out from Achintee. <br/>“We are. We are just walking to the access point, so we can start climbing the mountain.” Draco explains. </p><p>“Oh wow. Good thing we slept on the train.” Draco and Astoria don’t talk the rest of the way, until they reach the access point. </p><p>“It’s going to be about a four hour hike from here. Are you sure you want to come? I don’t want you to get tired or anything. I’ll meet you back at the inn room in the morning?” Draco offers. </p><p>“We better get started, then.” is all Astoria says, before starting up the trail. Draco does a quick jog to catch up, and cuts around her. He should probably go first. </p><p>“If we follow this trail, it should lead us straight to the old observatory.” Draco calls over his shoulder, as they make their way across a long footbridge. Astoria is right behind him, and he has to slow his pace slightly when he hears her breath quicken. Her legs aren’t anywhere near as long as his are. </p><p>The climb is long and steep and the weather is cold. Their warming charms keep them relatively warm, but they can still feel the icy wind on their faces. Astoria stumbles over a rock and Draco snickers. “I’ll push you down the mountain.” Astoria mutters under her breath. </p><p>“You’d have to catch me first.” Draco points out. </p><p>“Oh shut it. It’s not fair. I bet you’ve already climbed several mountains. This is my first one.” Astoria defends. </p><p>“True. I climbed Mount Kilimanjaro.” Draco boasts, picturing the look of surprise on the person behind him. </p><p>“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to impress me.” Astoria says. </p><p>“I’ve already impressed you.” </p><p>Astoria is quiet a few minutes more, and Draco can hear her trying to catch her breath. He is about to ask her if she needs a break, before she says “Why did you climb Killimanjaro?” </p><p>Draco gets quiet for a few moments. “I thought the Order would be there. I got a lead that made me think they would be. They were, I think. I found this camp. But, it looked like it had been deserted a week, maybe more.” </p><p>“I suppose they move around a lot. It’s safer for them, but it must make tracking them incredibly hard.” </p><p>“You have no idea. I’ll get a lead. And the leads are only viable, about one out of twenty times. I’m always a week or two behind them. I’ve lost the trail now, when I came home. It may take years to find them again.” </p><p>“I know you said you wanted to join them. Is that the only reason you were looking for them?” Astoria asks, slightly breathless. Draco feels his heart clench. </p><p>“There's a girl.” he says quietly, his mind a million miles away. Astoria grows very quiet. </p><p>“Oh.” she says softly, slightly dejectedly. It takes him a moment to realize how that sounds. </p><p>“No. I mean, not a girl like<em> that. </em> A friend. My best friend.” Draco says, stopping and turning to look at her. She seems slightly startled by his sudden stop. Her cheeks are red, but he thinks this time, its because of the biting wind. </p><p>“Oh.” Astoria says, bouncing slightly on her toes, trying to keep warm. Draco casts another warming charm on both of them. Draco nods and keeps walking. “You don’t have to talk about it. I was just curious.” </p><p>“No. It’s not a big deal. I haven’t talked about her in years. Couldn’t. It’s nice that I can.” Draco says, resuming his brisk pace. “She was my best friend. I’ve never had another like her and I probably never will.” </p><p>“That’s good. We’ll find her.” she says, her voice sure. Draco smiles softly. </p><p>“I hope so. I don’t have many friends.” </p><p>“I’m your friend.” Astoria offers kindly. Draco stops again and turns to face her. </p><p>“I’m not your friend Astoria.” he says softly. She looks like she’s been slapped and she turns to dart past him and keep walking but he grabs her wrist, pulling her back to face him. He kisses her slowly, deeply. He hasn’t kissed at all today, he realizes, and her lips are cold and dry from the wind. The tendrils of hair that have escaped her braid tickle his face as the wind blows. </p><p>“I don’t kiss my friends.” he says pointedly, before continuing walking. The slopes had started out grassy, but they are becoming more and more rocky, and the way more and more steep. </p><p>They finally reach an old, weathered building. The observatory. “Okay. Let’s start looking for an entrance.” They poke about rocks and crags. </p><p>After several minutes of searching, Astoria calls out “Here?” There is a huge rock at the edge of a cliff and Draco taps it with his wand. Nothing happens. </p><p>He can feel a slight magical air about this rock though, because near it , the wind doesn’t seem to blow at all, and the air is still, almost eerily quiet. </p><p>He has been a pure-blood long enough to know how things like these work. He takes his wand and makes a small slash at the palm of his hand.  The blood drips from his palm and he presses his hand against the rock. Nothing happens. Okay, maybe he doesn’t know how things like this work.</p><p>“My father had the entrance to the cellar blood-warded. You had to write your name in blood on the entrance. Try that?” Astoria suggests. </p><p>Draco shrugs. “Worth a shot.” He takes his finger and dips it into the gash on his palm. He slowly writes his name. Draco Lucius Malfoy. </p><p>Sure enough, the rock groaned and shifted to the left, revealing a rough stone staircase that descended into the earth. Astoria grabs his palm and runs her arm over it. “<em> Episkey. </em>” The gash heals quite nicely, with only a thin pink line that Astoria is able to vanish on her second try. </p><p>Astoria makes a move to start down the steps, but Draco grabs her wrist. “Wait. Maybe you should wait out here for me? I’ll be quick.” Draco offers hopefully. </p><p>“Nice try. Let’s go.” Astoria tries to wrench out of his grasp, but he pulls her behind him. </p><p>“Let me go in first.” Astoria shrugs and nods. Draco tentatively places his foot on the first step, and nothing happens. He steps all the way in, not quite letting go of Astoria. When he is still fine, he pulls her in after him. The rock shifts over the entrance with a loud scraping sound, shrouding them in darkness. </p><p>“Lumos.” Astoria whispers, and a light appears at the end of her wand. Draco does the same, but when he does so, Astoria’s light flickers and disappears. “Merlin, I learned this in first year! I should be able to light up my wand.”  Draco laughs at her, but when she casts the spell again, her wand lights up, and his goes out. </p><p>“Astoria. I think there must be some sort of jinx. I think only one person can use magic at a time.” </p><p>“Are you sure? Maybe it’s only for Lumos. Let’s try <em> Incendio </em>.” Astoria suggests. Draco isn’t sure that conjuring flames is a good idea, given that Astoria is still getting used to her wand. However, Astoria’s flames are well contained, and lap harmlessly off the stone corridor. The jinx does hold true, because they cannot maintain the flames at the same time. </p><p>“Curious.” Draco remarks. “Since I’m walking in front, I’ll light the way.” Astoria didn’t object so they both walked down the steps. The dark staircase continues down, down, and down, for what feels like an eternity. </p><p>Finally, Draco reaches the bottom of the staircase. He’s about to step on the landing, when Astoria shouts “Draco!” and yanks him backwards by the scruff of his jacket. He falls backwards on top of her and she hits the steps hard, and he can hear her startled gasp as the wind is knocked out of her. He rolls off of her and she groans slightly. </p><p>“Merlin, Astoria!” He stands and pulls her to her feet. “What are you doing?” </p><p>“I’m sorry. Are you alright?” </p><p>“Yeah. You?” </p><p>“Fine. Shine your light ahead of you, and look really closely.” Astoria says. Draco does and he sees what he saw before: the end of the staircase, and a long dark corridor. But, the longer he looks, he can see that it’s titled slightly off at the end of the hallway. </p><p>What had first appeared as a wide corridor that leads straight across, was actually a chute that leads down a drop that had to be fifty meters, at least. A plunge to certain death. A clever tilting charm had made it look like you were continuing straight, when in reality, you would be taking a step straight into freefall. </p><p>“Fuck, Astoria.” Draco takes a step back and puts his arm across Astoria, as if to hold her back from the edge. </p><p>“I know. That’s a clever trick. An optics charm. I believe it creates an optical illusion. Daphne is fantastic at them. She can make you see just about anything.” Astoria sounds mildly impressed with the spell work. Draco is still reeling from the fact he almost plummeted to his death. </p><p>“Well spotted.” Draco breathes. </p><p>“Thanks.” says Astoria, shyly. “I only recognized it because Daphne would cast them a lot. They take practice seeing through. You have to look at the edges and work your way in.” Draco does, and finds it easier to see through. “Now what? I mean, I suppose we could jump and cast a cushioning charm.” </p><p>Draco considers that. “Hm. I don’t know. I can’t see the bottom of the floor. I don’t know what’s down there. If it’s solid or water, then the cushioning charm is great. If it’s a floor made entirely of venomous snakes, or fire waiting to catch alight, a cushioning charm won’t do us much good.” </p><p>Astoria nods and rubs her temples, thinking. </p><p>Draco begins to wonder if there is another way to go then forward. To either side of the narrow staircase is a cold stone wall, but he wonders if the entrance is hidden. “<em>Dissendium.</em>” He tries. Surprisingly, two passageways open up, stone doors he hadn’t even seen creaking open. There is a door on the right wall and a door on the left wall. He squints down each, starting at the edges and working his way in. He can’t see anything weird. “Check these doors Astoria. Do they look alright to you?” </p><p>Astoria peers down both doors, spending about twenty seconds considering each one. “No. They look okay to me. But, I have a feeling we should only choose one.” </p><p>“Why not split up? Have one go left and one go right?” Draco asks. Astoria frowns. </p><p>“I don’t think we should split up. Only one of us can use a wand, meaning someone has to stumble around in the dark.” </p><p>“Alright, alright. Well, let's go left, then.” Draco concedes, secretly glad he didn’t have to go alone.</p><p>“Why left?” Astoria asks. Draco shrugs. </p><p>“It’s my Aunt’s vault. The Dark Mark is on her left arm, and she would probably pick the left door as the right path.” Draco reasons. Astoria nods. </p><p>“Well, I guess that’s as solid of an argument for left as we are going to get. Maybe I should go first. Since I am better at seeing through illusions?” Astoria asks him. Draco frowns. It doesn’t sit well with him to have her leading the charge straight into danger, but she does have a good point. </p><p>“Good idea.” Draco says, and Astoria gives him another shy smile. He puts his wand out so she can light hers, since she is leading the way. </p><p>Astoria holds the light in front of her, moving with slow careful steps, her eyes studying the view in front of them. Draco and Astoria move down the passageway methodically, but there seems to be no more of the visual traps. </p><p>The path had originally traversed straight, but now it twisted and turned, sloping slightly downward. Torches now lined the walls, all burning bright, lighting up their way. The air was growing colder, and due to the jinx, only one of them could use a warming charm at a time. Draco had tried to insist Astoria use it the whole time, but she was determined to take turns. </p><p>“What if you catch a cold?” Draco had asked, remembering Daphne’s warning. </p><p>“Then I get a runny nose. Let’s keep moving, all right?” Astoria had insisted. Draco is now left with a rather awful feeling. Astoria is an adult, however. If she says she is alright, Draco will just have to take her word for it. </p><p>After a few more paces, they reach a great bridge that stretches across a large canyon over a dark abyss. Draco conjures a slip of paper and sets it on fire, causing Astoria’s light to momentarily disappear. When it drops it off the edge, they watch it fall down, casting an eerie glow as the light bounced off the cavern walls. The burning paper falls until it is too far down for them to be able to see it. </p><p>“That’s encouraging.” Draco remarks sarcastically. He doesn’t quite trust the bridge but Astoria shrugs and is about to place a foot on the bridge, when Draco grabs her arm. “Wait.” </p><p>“What? From what I can tell, the bridge is real. No illusions.” Astoria runs her light over the bridge and reaches her finger out, touching the railing. “It’s definitely there.” </p><p>“Let’s send something else across first. Then, if it makes it to the other side, we can go after it.” Draco suggests. </p><p>“Okay. But what? Like an animal?” Astoria asks. </p><p>“Yeah. If it makes it to the other side, then it’s reasonable to assume we will too.” Astoria nods and steps back extinguishing her wand light. The sudden darkness is startling, and he feels Astoria grab onto his coat sleeve. </p><p>“Stay behind me, okay. I’m casting the spell forward. Don’t want you to get hit.” Draco warns. He raises his wand and says “<em> Serpensortia </em>.” He hears the sound of something hitting the ground and Astoria gives a yelp. </p><p>“Something brushed my leg.” Astoria frets. Draco lights his wand and points at the ground seeing his conjured snake. He pulls Astoria farther back, and is able to corral the snake toward the bridge. The snake is able to slither halfway across, before the bridge shakes and trembles. </p><p>The bridge, with it’s metal railings and wood floor, creaks and groans, as if it is bearing a great weight, rather than a relatively small creature. The snake makes a valiant attempt to get to the other side, but the bridge crashes down, falling into the darkness. </p><p>“Well then.” Astoria murmurs. Draco shakes his head, filled with an odd desire to laugh. “I feel bad for the snake.” </p><p>“Better it then us.” Draco says. He steps forward and holds up his light, straining to see the other side. He could conjure a bridge, but he isn’t sure if the jinx that allowed the previous bridge to fall would cause his to fall. That’s when, on the other side, he sees the snake, a twisting, wriggling mass, fall, seemingly from the sky, to the ground on the other side of the canyon. </p><p>Sudden understanding fills him. If they jump, theoretically, they should appear on the other side, unharmed. </p><p>“We have to jump.” Draco says. </p><p>“What?” </p><p>“We have to jump.” Draco says. </p><p>“Excuse me?” Astoria asks, as if he has lost his mind. </p><p>“The snake. Look. It’s on the other side.” Draco gestures with his wand. Astoria scrunches up her face, peering across the canyon. </p><p>“I don’t see anything.” </p><p>“Well, it was there.” Draco insists. </p><p>“Okay. But not the paper ball, and not the bridge? Just the snake? If it truly is some sort of charm that allows you to reappear on the other side, then where is everything else?” Astoria asks, desperately trying to convince him. She tugs on him lightly, trying to persuade him away from the edge. </p><p>“Well, the snake is alive. The bridge and paper weren’t.”  Draco wonders if perhaps only living things make it to the other side. </p><p>“And we won’t be either if we leap to our death!” Astoria shrieks. </p><p>Draco sighs heavily. There truly is no way for him to know whether it will work or not. </p><p>“Okay. Listen, I’ll conjure a bridge. It’s going to take a while, but I’ll try. The way I figure, if the bridge I make falls, just like the other one, then we jump anyway. So it doesn’t matter either way.” Astoria seems mollified by his plan. </p><p>“Can I help?” Astoria asks. She steps forward and peers over the edge, frowning at the darkness. </p><p>“No. The jinx, remember?” Astoria nods and steps away pulling her coat tight around her. </p><p>Draco frowns at the space. It is possible to conjure a bridge, but it’s usually tricky work. </p><p>Draco points his wand at the edge, and feels a slight resistance. It will be hard to do this without light from a wand. “<em> Partum Pontem </em>” he chants, over and over again. Little by little,  strands of magic are leaping out and winding together, forming a bridge made out of a material that reminds him of wood, but of a slightly different look. </p><p>It takes nearly thirty minutes, and he is panting heavily when the bridge finally reaches the other side. He kept having to stop to cast Lumos, checking his progress. </p><p>“Wow. Impressive spell work.” Astoria whispers, reaching out and touching the new bridge, tapping on it, as if testing is fortification. </p><p>Draco doesn’t respond but enjoys the compliments. He won’t admit it, but he loves to have his ego stroked.</p><p>“Should we go?” Astoria asks, turning to look at him over her shoulder. It’s still very dark and he can only, just barely make out her form. </p><p>“Yeah.” he breathes, slightly out of breath still. Astoria lights her wand and takes careful steps forward. The bridge is not very wide and slightly uneven in parts. Astoria stumbles over a bump on the surface and gives a slight yelp. Draco grabs her waist, steadying her. </p><p>The bridge had been holding up fairly well, but he begins to feel it rumble and tremble beneath his feet. He glances behind him, and sees the part of the bridge that is anchored to the side of the canyon has already been crumbling away.  </p><p>“Draco.” Astoria says, fear in her voice. Draco pushes her forward, urging her to move faster. </p><p>“Run.” </p><p>They do, scurrying across the bridge as fast as they can. Draco has to slow his pace slightly so he doesn’t knock into Astoria, although she is moving far faster than he would have guessed her able to. However, with a sinking feeling, he realizes they aren’t going to make it. <em>“E</em> <em> verte Statum. </em>” he shouts, pointing his wand at Astoria’s back.  </p><p>With his spell, Astoria flies forward, landing on the ground at the other side of the canyon. She pulls herself up slowly, wincing from the pain, and turns to look at him, panic on her features. He can hear her shout his name, but only just, as the bridge is making such a tremendous crashing noise. Before he can make it to the other side, the bridge falls, and Draco feels himself drop, cold air whistling past him as he free falls. </p><p>Astoria points her wand at him shouting “<em> Carpe Retractum.” </em>A beam of bright orange light shoots toward him, hitting him square in the chest. The beam seems to knit itself into his skin quickly, before lurching him upwards, pulling him towards Astoria. He lands on top of her and they are thrown to the ground in a mess of tangled limbs and cries of pain. He feels the snake slither past his ankle, and he kicks out in panic, flinging it into the chasm below. </p><p>They lay there a few minutes in a heap on the stone floor. Draco groans and sits up, pulling her with him, farther away from the edge. He stands and hauls Astoria up with his outstretched hand. “Alright?” he chokes. Astoria gives an assenting noise. “Thanks.” Draco murmurs. “For the spell.” </p><p>“Of course.” Astoria says, chest still heaving. Draco lights his wand and presses forward, motioning for Astoria to follow him. There is a door embedded into the stone wall in front of them and they start forward, glad to leave the large dark abyss behind them. </p><p>The door is made of polished black marble with strange runes engraved on the doorframe. “I wonder if it’s the same as the rock?” Astoria asks. </p><p>“I guess we’ll find out.” Draco says, dipping his finger in a gash on his elbow, writing his full name in blood on the door. Sure enough, the door swings open. Astoria walks past him into the door, taking the lead again. She squints surveying the room inside. </p><p>Draco can feel the difference in the air in this room. “I think the wand jinx lifted.” Astoria frowns and lights up her wand. Draco’s doesn’t go out. </p><p>“I guess you’re right. That’s good.” Astoria says. Draco nods and begins to look around the room.</p><p>This room, after the large caverns, yawning black expanses, and long corridors, seems relatively small. There is a wardrobe in the corner, and in front, a simple wooden door, with a keyhole. </p><p>Draco follows in after her, frowning. “I don’t have a key.” </p><p>“Alohomora.” Astoria tries. The lock doesn’t seem to respond and when Astoria tries the doorknob, the door won’t budge. “I’ll check the wardrobe. Funny it’s in here. Odd place to keep coats.”</p><p>“Exactly. So be careful. I’ll work on the door.” Draco says. Astoria mumbles what Draco thinks may be “Bossy.” But she is ducking around him and starting toward the wardrobe. Draco turns to the door. </p><p>“Reducto.” he says, pointing the wand at the door. The door is blown off of it’s hinges. Easy. Great. “Got it.” he calls. Astoria doesn’t respond. </p><p>He turns around to see her gazing at something, frozen in fear. The wardrobe is open, revealing something hanging in midair, suspended by an invisible rope. Not something, but someone. </p><p>There is a man, hanging upside down, his head nearly severed from his body. Draco realizes, with horror, that it must be her father. Draco for a moment, is so horrified by the vision, he forgets what he is dealing with. A boggart. </p><p>“Astoria. It’s a boggart. It’s not real.” he calls softly. Astoria shuts her eyes tightly, giving him a small nod. Draco raises his wand, unable to imagine how on earth he is supposed to make this funny. When your boggart was a spider, or a potions professor, it’s easy to have a laugh. But this? How does one combat this? </p><p>“No. I can do it.” Astoria whispers, raising the wand. Draco nods and steps back. Astoria raises her wand, her hand shaking. However, when she opens her mouth, the boggart changes, morphing into a figure, one Draco knows well. </p><p>Rowle stands before her, wand out, and rushes toward her slamming her against the wall. Rowle wraps one hand around Astoria’s throat and pushes his wand to his temple. </p><p>Rowle is screaming and the words are almost incoherent. “You little bitch! You always are poking your nose into business you don’t belong in!” </p><p>Draco raises his wand but Astoria shouts “Wait! Draco, just wait, okay? I want to hear what he says!” </p><p>What? Is she mad? He looks at her and her eyes are wide, afraid, but determined. She knows what she is doing. Draco gives her a small nod, but doesn’t lower his wand. </p><p>“Look at me!” Rowle shouts, shaking Astoria hard. </p><p>Voice trembling, Astoria asks “What business, Rowle? What business do I need to stay out of?” </p><p>Rowle slaps her hard. “Astoria!” Draco shouts, warningly. </p><p>Astoria gives a small sob. “I know. Just hold on okay?” Draco shakes his head, shouting “Riddikulus!” Astoria throws herself out of the way of the spell, dragging the boggart down with her. </p><p>Rowle is on top of her now. “You tell anyone what you saw, I’ll hurt you, do you understand? Nott  will let me have you, you know that? I told him I’ll keep your mouth shut! I’ll keep your mouth plenty busy—”</p><p>Astoria cuts him off shouting “Tell what! What would I tell?!” </p><p>Astoria has her hand on her wand, deflecting Draco’s second attempt at the Riddikulus charm, and when he attempts to move closer to her, she shoots sparks towards him, forcing him to dive out of the way.</p><p>Rowle’s hands wrap around her throat again. “The ring! Nott’s ring. You better keep your mouth shut, or I’ll—” Draco hits the boggart with a Riddikulus, causing Rowle to turn into a hedgehog, which scurries away, under the wardrobe. </p><p>“No!” Astoria shouts, reaching for the hedgehog. Draco stalks to her furiously, kneeling down beside her crumpled form. </p><p>“Are you insane! What the hell Astoria? That has got to be the most idiotic, brainless, stupid—” </p><p>“Don’t yell at me!” Draco stops suddenly. Astoria stands and runs her fingers through her hair, which hangs down in wild tangles. Her braid has long been unraveled, and she stands slowly. </p><p>“I’m fine. It didn’t hurt. Not really.” Astoria rasps, running her hand along her throat. </p><p>“Why?” Draco asks, trying to keep his voice even. He still sounds angry, but he isn’t raising his voice. He hates this sort of thing. Blind, reckless behavior. Why in the world would she allow herself to go through with that? He is even more angry that she had the audacity to ask him to stand there and watch, hurt that she would think him capable of that. </p><p>“My memories. We think they are still there, right? The ones I can’t access.” Astoria says, yanking on Draco’s sleeve, signaling for him to stand up. Draco rises to his feet. </p><p>“Okay. And? I don’t understand—” </p><p>“Just listen, okay? I thought that since the memories are there, maybe the boggart can access them. I can’t get through the mental wall, but the boggart obviously could. If I could relive the memories, I could remember.” </p><p>Draco shakes his head. “No, Astoria! No. Those memories, whatever they are, are not that important. Do you understand me? Nothing is that important!” Draco is furious. How could she be so stupid. “How dare you! How dare you ask me to do that?” </p><p>“To do what?” Astoria asks, taking a step toward him. </p><p>“Watch you get knocked around like that? And you mean to tell me that really happened? That’s a memory of yours?” </p><p>“I didn’t know he would do that, okay? I don’t know what is in those memories.  I’m sorry! I just wanted to hear what he was saying.” Astoria says. “Weren’t you the one who said it was important?” Astoria asks accusingly. </p><p>“Fuck, Astoria! No. I didn’t mean for you to do something like this, and you know it. <em> Nothing is that important. </em> I won’t do that again, do you hear me? I won’t.” Draco is shaking in anger. He isn’t even quite sure what he is saying.</p><p>Astoria looks ashamed. “Draco, it wasn’t real. It wasn’t actually happening.” </p><p>“I don’t care. I don’t fucking care. It was real enough. I trust you to be able to fend for yourself. But that? That was idiotic. Use your fucking head!” </p><p>Astoria is silent, staring at her shoes. Draco shakes his head. “It’s not my fault that Rowle is a monster, okay? Don’t blame me for that.” Astoria whispers. </p><p>“No. Absolutely not. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to turn this around on me. The memory, the reality, that isn’t your fault. You know that. I know that. But to just let the boggart do that to you, to put on some sick show, some recreation of that, and then stop me from doing anything about it? That’s different. And you know it!” </p><p>“Draco—” </p><p>“No. You are a capable witch. You could’ve cast the charm. You could have made the boggart go away. You could have let me help you. Instead, you just sat there! And then, the only time you did any sort of action, was to defend the <em> fucking boggart </em>!” </p><p>Astoria is staring at him and her eyes are full of tears.  She looks incredibly guilty, and with a vindictive sort of pleasure, he realizes he wants her to feel bad. As bad as he felt watching that. </p><p>“You’re right. I’m sorry.” She is shaking slightly, as though she has just realized what she has done. She wraps her arms around herself. “Thank you. For stopping the boggart. It was the right thing to do.” she says. Her fingers trace the zipper on the pocket of her coat and she bends down to pick up her wand, which she had left abandoned on the floor. </p><p>She shakes her head. “I can’t believe I did that. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” she says, voice wavering. Draco walks toward her, wrapping his arms around her, rather stiffly, and pulls her to him. He holds her and she cries, horrible, wracking sobs. </p><p>“It’s awful. Not remembering what happened.” Astoria sobs. Draco has a sick feeling in his stomach. He doesn’t know what to do. Hell, if that boggart was based off of a real event, then what else could she not remember. It wasn’t good. </p><p>“Maybe you shouldn't remember Astoria. Maybe I was wrong. Why don’t we just forget about it?” Draco says. </p><p>“Didn’t you hear what he said? About Theo’s ring? I bet you it’s important! We should—” </p><p>“No. Astoria, I knew Rowle was a creep, okay? But if what I just saw is anything close to a memory you have, you aren’t getting anywhere near him. And if Nott is in league with someone like that? Then you aren’t getting involved with him either.”</p><p>“Oh, and you are?” Astoria asks, her eyes growing bright with anger. </p><p>“No. I’m not going to approach them either. I’m going to tell Daphne to get the fuck out of that house, and I’m going to do what I have to do, to make sure that we get what Snape wanted done, done.” </p><p>Astoria shook her head. “I know it’s important—” </p><p>“No. That’s the thing, Astoria. You don’t know. And I’m starting to think that it’s better that way.” Draco expects Astoria to continue fighting him, but instead she just grips him tighter. </p><p>“I’m sorry.” is all she says. Draco sighs softly, feeling the tension dissipate, slightly. He is still angry, but for the sake of time, they have to move on. </p><p>“It’s okay. Let’s just keep moving, okay?” Astoria nods. Draco smooths back her hair and gives her a reassuring squeeze on her arm, though he can tell it doesn't make her feel much better. </p><p>They separate and look toward the blasted door. “Is that all it took? A blasting spell?” Astoria asks. </p><p>“Yeah. It is. Suppose we could use a break. Something easy.” Draco says, although it fills him with unease. If getting through was so easy, what did that say about what was on the other side of that door? </p><p>He walks forward and steps through, and what he sees is absolutely terrifying. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0048"><h2>48. Astoria</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Draco of course, is now furious with her. And, if she was honest, rightly so. Astoria is filled with remorse and wishes he would look at her, as he is still avoiding her gaze. He is still angry with her. Draco may have told her it was okay, but she could tell by his posture that it wasn’t. His jaw is still clenched, and his back and shoulders are rigid, like he is barely containing himself from turning around and admonishing her again. </p><p>As they walk toward the blasted door, Astoria feels numb. That’s the best way she can describe it. She feels incredibly moronic. She doesn’t know quite what came over her. She just wanted, so badly to know what she was missing. Part of it was definitely for her sister. Clearly, Nott was mixed up in something dangerous, and if it put Daphne in danger, she needed to know. It was partly for herself. Since her father died, she had been left with this awful, queasy feeling. It was unnerving, terrifying even, to have a gap in your memories like that. </p><p>She had woken up the day of her father’s death, with Daphne standing over her, telling her that her father had taken his own life. But she had known it wasn’t true! But when asked how she knew, she would just draw a blank. All she knew, is that everytime Rowle came near her, she flinched. Everytime she saw Theo, something in her screamed at her to turn the other way and run. And she didn’t know why. She would tell her sister that she knew something had happened, but all Daphne would do is warn her not to upset her mother. No one believed her. </p><p>Astoria knows, though. She knows it is something worth remembering. That’s why she hadn’t let it go. She kept talking about it, telling anyone who would listen, that her father’s death was suspicious. However, when pressed for details, she had none to give. Without her memories she had been forced to stop trying. No one would believe her without them anyway. </p><p>In the stress of being sentenced to death, she had allowed herself to forget the gaping hole in her memories. She had had other worries, such as a trial to prepare for, and a strategy to stay alive. Draco had reminded her just how desperate she had been to remember, and that desperation is back. </p><p>She is staring at the floor, completely distracted from the task at hand, when she slams into Draco’s back, who has stopped suddenly. </p><p>“Sorry!” she says quickly, fearing that she will set him off again. Being yelled at when someone is angry is one thing, but when you deserve it? That makes it all the worse.  Draco however, doesn’t acknowledge her, except to throw an arm out, keeping her back. </p><p>His stare is frozen straight ahead, and when Astoria follows his line of sight, she gasps. The door has led to another great cavern, stone walls lined with eerie white balls of light that keep the chamber well lit. The light gives the cave a ghostly glow, and reveals the horror below. </p><p>They are standing at the edge of a vast underground lake, filled with clear, cool water. In the very center of the body of water, there lies a small trap door, embedded in the bottom of the floor of the lake. However, that is not what has Draco and Astoria gaping at. </p><p>Under the surface, swimming in slow, lazy circles, is a great serpent, nearly eighteen meters, at least. The serpent is jet black, with smooth, shiny skin. Atop it’s head are several long tendrils that lash out, like four great tongues.  Astoria has no doubt that if the worm opened its mouth, there would be rows and rows of dangerously sharp teeth. </p><p>The serpent is easily as big as a dragon, if not bigger. It is perhaps the largest creature Astoria has ever seen, larger even than the giant squid that lived in The Black Lake. </p><p>It’s clear what has to be done. They have to somehow get past the great serpent, and into the water below, through that trap door. </p><p>“Draco?” she whispers, and he holds up a hand, signaling her to be quiet. He pulls her behind him and backs up slowly, until she is pressed against the stone wall. Draco motions for her to stay where she is as he starts to walk forward. Astoria shakes her head and starts forward too, but stops when Draco gives her a hard look, and pushes her back. </p><p>“I’m going to try something. Do. Not. Move.” he hisses. Astoria tries to ignore the dismal feeling creeping into her at his tone. Still feeling incredibly guilty about the boggart situation, she stays where she is, watching apprehensively as Draco moves slowly toward the rocky shore. He bends down, keeping one eye on the serpent, before picking up a pebble. He winds his arm back and lets the pebble fly, until it hits the water on the very far side of the lake, making a small splash, barely discernible.</p><p>The great serpent leaps out of the water in a long, deadly arc, gliding across the water with incredible speed toward the tiny splash, head roving as it looked for the cause. It’s eyes were cold and cruel, as it scanned the water for any sign of life. Finding none, it dove back underneath the water, which was still lapping against the shore violently from the serpent’s sudden outburst. </p><p>Astoria’s mouth drops open in shock and fear. How in the world were they supposed to get past that? Draco backs away from the water’s edge slowly, a look of horror on his face. He turns when he reaches her and whispers so incredibly quietly, she can barely hear him. </p><p>“It’s a selma. They eat fish. And human flesh.” Human flesh? Oh goody. </p><p>“A selma? I thought it was The Selma. There’s only one.” </p><p>“Don’t be stupid. There can’t be just one. They’re just incredibly rare.” The softness of Draco’s whisper does little to hide the harshness in his tone. Astoria almost flinches, but is able to stop herself. She assures herself that it’s because of the giant serpent swimming before them, and has nothing to do with her. </p><p>“Sorry.” she whispers. Draco doesn’t respond, fixing his stare back on the selma. His brow is furrowed and he leans forward slightly, obviously very deep in thought. Astoria tries to wrack her brain for a solution. Throwing the pebble had been clever. Obviously, the selma could detect even the slightest of movement in the water, which meant there was no sneaking past it. They would have to fight it head on, which would be extremely difficult. This selma was bigger than the dragons she had seen at the Triwizard Tournament. How on earth were they meant to fight it? She begins to wonder what the Black’s were thinking? What was the point of having all this treasure stored here if it was made nearly impossible to get to. </p><p>Draco still hasn’t said anything. He is crouching down, murmuring to himself, but so softly Astoria can’t hear him. “Draco?” she whispers softly. </p><p>“What?” </p><p>“We have to fight it.” </p><p>“I know.” </p><p>“I’ll distract it, and you’ll swim down there and open the door.” Draco frowns, shaking his head. </p><p>“No. I don’t think—” he starts to whisper and Astoria sighs and grabs his hand pulling him back into the room that had held the boggart. Draco gives a hiss of anger at being pulled from the room, but he allows her to lead him backwards. Astoria doubts she could move him if he didn’t let her. </p><p>“Sorry. I was tired of whispering. I couldn’t hear you.” Astoria explains. It was hard to come up with a plan when she kept getting distracted by the great worm swimming beneath them. </p><p>Draco shakes his head and turns his face away, as if he doesn’t want to look at her. Astoria tries to fight the hurt she feels. “Listen, it’s like I said. That selma isn’t something we can sneak past together. You saw how fast it moved toward the pebble. And that was a tiny rock. It would surely notice if we try to go swimming!” Astoria points out. </p><p>Draco’s mouth is pressed into a hard, thin, line. Astoria can tell he is wracking his brain, in an attempt to refute what she has said. “Look, why don’t I go in there and kill it and then I’ll come back in here to find you when I’m done.” </p><p>Astoria crosses her arms. “Draco, I can handle it. Just because....” Astoria trails off, after Draco gives her a hard look, daring her to finish her sentence. She had been about to bring up the boggart, but decided it against it. Astoria is worried that Draco no longer trusts her. It seems he is questioning her ability to make competent decisions, and Astoria can hardly blame him. “Whoever is on the shore, distracting the selma, has the safer task. The Selma can’t leave the water, so if I stay on the shore and command it’s attention, it’s much safer. While I’m doing that, you can swim down there and get the door open.” </p><p>Draco runs his hands over his face and sighs, closing his eyes as he considers her plan. “How are you going to distract it?” Draco asks. “Because I would be willing to guess it’s going to be much more interested in whoever is swimming. I mean, if I’m swimming I’m automatically going to be easier, more accessible prey. How do you plan to combat that?”  Astoria considers for a moment. </p><p>“Let me think.” Astoria says, rubbing her temples. She feels a wave of exhaustion creep over her, and she briefly wonders if she has ever been so tired in her life. It takes her a few moments, but a plan begins to take form in her mind.  “Draco, if I’m firing spells at it, I hardly think the selma is going to be focussed on you. If you can swim quietly down, it may disregard you if I give it enough trouble. Just swim quickly.” </p><p>Draco considers for a few moments. “Okay. I think that will work. But even if I get through, you aren’t going to be able to go in after me. The selma will kill you before you can.” Astoria sighs. </p><p>“I know. After you get through, I’ll just have to turn back. I’ll meet you by the entrance on top of the mountain, where we came in? “ Astoria asks. She doesn’t want to split up, but she doesn’t see another way. </p><p>Draco considers her for a moment. If he is uncomfortable with her leaving him, he doesn’t show it. His face is still in it’s careful expression of controlled apathy. “Don’t wait at the rock. Go back to the inn. I’ll meet you there.” </p><p>Astoria nods. “Alright. I’ll go in first and make sure it’s focussed on me. Wait a few minutes and then sneak into the water.” Draco nods cooly. It occurs to Astoria that if this goes badly, it may be the last time she sees him. Draco isn’t looking at her anymore. His gaze is fixed on the open doorway, where he can see the selma swimming around in gigantic circles. </p><p>Draco is taller than Astoria by a considerable amount, so she has to stand on her toes to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Good luck.” she whispers, ignoring the way Draco stiffens under her touch. He doesn’t respond to her as she creeps back into the large cavern and makes her way to the lake. </p><p>The water is clear, and the eerie white glow gleams off the water’s surface. The great black beast is still swimming in the same predatory circles and Astoria is again surprised at just how big this creature is. She imagines that it could have been down here for thousands of years, growing larger and larger, and hungrier and hungrier. That wasn’t such a nice thought. </p><p> Astoria gathers herself and raises her wand, casting a jet of red sparks that bounce off the surface of the water, creating a large splash. LIke a great, big bolt of lightning, the selma darts toward the splash, opening it’s immense mouth to snap at the disturbance in the water. Astoria was definitely right about the sharp teeth. </p><p>The selma looks around, confused that there is a splash, but no prey. Astoria frowns. She somehow had to keep it entertained on her. She bends down and touches her hand to the water. The selma lurches forward, hurtling toward her hand. She wrenches it out and jumps backward. The selma rears up out of the water, head angled toward her, lashing out. Astoria narrowly misses it’s gaping maw and she darts to the side, nearly catching her coat on the rows of sharp teeth that had been barreling towards her. She turns quickly and points her wand at the beast, shouting “<em> Incendio </em>!” </p><p>A jet of flames hits the selma square in the face, causing the selma to screech in rage. Unfortunately,  all the flames seem to do is anger it. The inky black skin of the selma shows no sign of any burns. </p><p>Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Draco creeping to the edge of the lake’s rocky shore. His eyes are trained on the battle before him, and he raises his wand when the selma nearly knocks her off her feet again. Astoria shoots a warning look his way, begging him to keep going. Draco relents, lowering his wand and slowly lowers himself into the lake. </p><p>The monster turns it’s head toward Draco, but Astoria fires a <em> “Bombarda! </em>” towards the serpent, and although the spell bounces off it’s body with a loud explosion, it’s focus is now back on Astoria. She can see Draco slip beneath the water, smooth and agile, before making a beeline for the door with strong, fast strokes. </p><p>The selma can likely feel that Draco is in the water, and looks as though it’s about to move away from her. Astoria remembers a move that someone had used while battling a dragon during the Triwizard Tournament. She throws a conjunctivitis curse straight into the selma’s eyes. The beast roars and howls, it’s eyes swelling shut. </p><p>The selma wrenches more than half of itself out of the water and lurches toward her flopping onto the land to snap even farther at her heels. Astoria shouts <em> “Confundo!” </em> directing the spell at the selma’s large skull. The selma whips it’s head around, looking dazed, as though it can’t quite remember what it’s supposed to be doing. </p><p>Astoria sees a flash of light underneath the water, and Draco has fired a spell at the trap door. With great effort he seems to be able to wrench the door open. The selma has noticed Draco too, and although it whips around and darts underneath the water, speeding toward Draco, the selma is too late. Draco slips through, using his wand to shut the door in the selma’s face. The selma roars in anger, and turns toward Astoria. </p><p>Astoria no longer has anytime to reflect on their victory, because she turns and runs in the opposite room. The selma is flying through the water and launches itself after her, bringing itself nearly out of the water, throwing itself on the shore, snapping its jaws after Astoria. </p><p>Astoria throws one last hex over her shoulder, after rolling out of the way of the selma’s attack. She reaches the smaller room and hurtles past it. She can see the wardrobe rattling, no doubt because the boggart senses her presence yet again. Astoria ignores it and keeps running. She reaches the canyon and looks behind her. The selma can’t leave the water, and so she leans against the stone wall, breathing hard. </p><p>Looking at the canyon, she has no idea how she is going to get across. She doesn’t know how to cast Draco’s bridge spell, and while she remembers the incantation, she doesn’t think she has time to figure it out. She is eager to leave. </p><p>Astoria points her wand at the wall on the opposite side of the canyon, shouting, “<em> Carpe Retractum.” </em>A beam of orange light latches to the stone wall, yanking her across the canyon. She lands hard, rolling over and over, before scrambling up, and heading back toward the original hallway. She climbs the stairs and reaches a wall, the entrance long closed up. </p><p>She cannot open the entrance, because she doesn’t have Black blood. This was a problem she didn’t anticipate. She frowns. She knows an enchantment to absolve blood wards, but she doesn’t know if it will work. She bites her lip. She doesn’t have an option. She can’t stay here. </p><p><em> “Te lucis ante terminum sanguine praesidium.” </em> The stairwell trembles. Astoria keeps repeating the phrase, and with a groaning noise emitting from the entrance, blood begins to seep out of the wall, seemingly leaking out of solid stone. With a sickening realization, she realizes that all the blood the Black’s had used for generations to get into their vault, is seeping out of the stone. Her stomach rolls and she has to resist the urge to vomit. The blood is coating the walls, but she doesn’t stop, continuing to repeat the incantation. </p><p>Eventually, the spell breaks and the entrance opens up, revealing a clear grey sky. It is nearly dawn and the air is very cold. She is drained from the spell, and when she looks down, she realizes that her blood is draining, very fast from a word on her ankle, as though it was scratched there with a knife. </p><p>She sinks to her knees, suddenly very dizzy. That must have been the price for breaking through the blood wards. There were rules for blood magic. Blood demands blood. She uses her fingers to smear the blood on her ankle, trying to make out the word. </p><p>“Thief.” the word reads, as blood quickly fills the cut again, leaking out, obscuring the words. The blood is leaking out fast, far faster than she had ever thought possible. She is fighting to stay conscious. She knows she has to get away from the enchanted entrance, which is likely the source of the blood magic’s power, where the spell is drawing it’s strength. She reaches for her wand and pictures the small room from the inn.</p><p>She is able to apparate straight into the room and she almost sobs in relief. Her blood is still running fast from her ankle and it is spilling onto the floor, staining the carpet. When she sees this, she begins to picture her father, with his blood spilt all over the library. She feels like she is going to be sick. </p><p>She has fallen to knees yet again, and sits heavily on the ground, pulling her ankle towards her. Pointing her wand at the cut, she begins to chant “<em> Vulnera Sanentur. </em>” It takes several minutes, but the cut in her ankle begins to close up, and the bleeding stops. She doesn’t want to think about what would have happened if she hadn’t managed to get away from Ben Nevis. The Black’s vault probably would have bled her dry, quite literally. </p><p>She hauls herself up and heads toward the small bathroom. She spies a shower, and quickly strips her clothes off, glad to wash away the dirt and grime of the day. As the water hits her back, she turns it to scalding hot, enjoying the way it burns her skin. She tries to think of it washing off all the bad memories of today. </p><p>When she steps out of the shower, she gasps. Her neck and face were covered in purple bruises. There was a large, angry  bruise on her cheek where Rowle— no, the boggart— had slapped her. It’s grasp on her neck had left a scary, smattering of  bruises over her windpipe. </p><p>She feels white hot shame course through her. How could she have let this happen to her? Draco was right. She had acted extremely recklessly. She grabs her wand from the counter and is able to make most of the bruises fade. </p><p>She eyes her dirty clothes in the corner. She doesn’t want to put them back on, but the thought of being undressed caused her cheeks to burn. Grabbing the clothes she shrugs them back on, casting a <em>“Scourgify</em>” on the garments. It would have to do. </p><p>She wonders if Draco was alright. She has a sickening feeling about the blood wards. She didn’t think that disabling them would hurt him, but she wasn’t sure. She collapses on the bed, letting her eyes close. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0049"><h2>49. Draco</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Draco slips into the water, he has to stifle a gasp. The water is incredibly cold and he can feel his limbs start to freeze up. He can see the selma reeling back, ready to strike Astoria and he has to fight the urge to pull out his wand. She has a job to do, and so does he. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco takes a deep breath, and dives beneath the surface, pulling himself downward, in a straight, swift line towards the trap door. He is sending a silent prayer to anyone who might be listening that the trap door is not enchanted. He can feel himself run out of air as is, and he knows he won’t have time to break any sort of enchantment. Coming up for air would require interaction with the selma, and that interaction would surely involve his death. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria is doing an impressive job battling the selma and he is filled with an odd sort of pride as he hears the selma give another enraged roar, the sound so loud it pierces through the depths of the water. He reaches the trap door and pulls his wand out, hoping </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bombarda</span>
  </em>
  <span> would do. He casts the spell and with a flash of light, the door bursts open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco sees a flash of movement and the selma barrels straight toward him, having suddenly decided the blast beneath it was far more important than the woman dancing just out of its reach. Draco almost freezes in fear, having a strange thought that he should have kissed Astoria, instead of letting her walk out to battle the selma without a word. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He suddenly comes to his senses, realizing that if he would just </span>
  <em>
    <span>move</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he could do more than just kiss her when he got out of this. He pushes himself through the trap door and slams the door behind him, hearing the selma crash it’s head against it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The trap door must have been enchanted, but instead of keeping him out, it seems to keep water from rushing in when he tumbled through the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes large gulping breaths, grateful for the air that is rushing back into his lungs. He leans against the wall, catching his breath. This vault better be filled wall to wall with goods of immeasurable fucking value.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes a look around, incredibly disappointed to find, not only no money, but more importantly, no fucking horcrux. A horrible thought crosses his mind, that perhaps Bellatrix somehow got through his occlumency and directed him here on purpose, hoping that he plunged to his death, or that he got eaten by a giant sea snake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, that wasn’t Bellatrix’s style. She preferred to take care of things herself. Allowing a selma to do it would be shameful, and a whole lot less entertaining for her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco finds himself in another long hallway, that leads to yet another door. He lets out a long sigh, and drags his aching, tired body up into a standing position, leaving the support of the wall he was leaning against. He is begging the universe that behind that door, is Hufflepuff’s cup. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reaches the wooden door and almost sobs in relief, that the knob twists easily in his hand. However, when he opens the door, he immediately wishes that he had been swallowed by the selma. “What fresh hell is this?” he curses to himself, mouth dropping open in utter revulsion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Standing before him, surrounded by mountains of sparkling gems, yellow gold, and piles of objects that look like they are built for purposes too vile for even the Dark Lord himself, is the most abhorrent creature he has ever seen. In his life.  The selma looked almost tame, compared to what stood in front of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The monster is at least three meters tall. It has a gigantic head, with a single eye in the middle of its face, just above a row of ugly, crowded, teeth. A great, lone arm sprung outward from the center of it’s chest, muscular, with the fingernails crusty and yellow. From the long torso, a sole, muscular leg, reminding him of a tree trunk, supported the creature, who seemed to be balancing on top of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco is frozen in place eyeing the creature, who appears to be sizing him up. Draco grips his wand, and takes a small step forward. This is a mistake, because the creature roars, and starts aggressively hopping toward him, surprisingly agile for a beast with only one leg. Draco darts behind a pile of gold, narrowly missing the large arm grabbing at him. He flings a curse towards the monster, but it dodges it, roaring at him in rage. Draco curses and casts a stunning spell, but it only seems to daze the monster, rather than incapacitate it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shooting it with the Confundus charm, he is able to duck behind a china cabinet of dishes that were made of solid, gleaming emerald, lined with gold. He could see the monster looking at him in the reflection of the shining plates, momentarily confused due to the charm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco scans the room, looking for the cup. He didn’t exactly know what it would look like. He sees about ten gold goblets just in the nook he is crouching. Great. He took a deep breath. It would look like Hufflepuff, right? It would be simple, maybe have a badger on it or something. Draco realizes the monster had found him when it hops on it’s large, single leg, straight atop the china cabinet, making glass and broken dishes rain down on him. Ugly fucking bastard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco dives out of the way of the large hand and turns a corner, hurtling down rows and rows of treasure. He feels a bit of pride that his mother’s family is so rich. I mean, who doesn’t like wealth. Of course, he hopes the monster isn’t included in his inheritance. It’s definitely something he could do without. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco wheels around and stands his ground. He can’t possibly search the vault with this thing after him. He points his wand, aiming it straight toward the beast’s single eye. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sagittavirga</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he shouts, watching as a silver, gleaming arrow propels from the tip of his wand, glistening as it flies through the air, before burying itself in the pupil of the freak’s eye. It gives a great roar, before staggering back, crying in pain and clutching it’s eye with it’s lone, grotesque hand. It falls to the floor and gives a great crash, twitching and moaning on the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now that the monster has been apprehended, Draco can focus on finding this cup. He searches and searches, wandering down row after row of objects. Just when he is about to give up hope, he spies it resting atop a large dining table, made of carved ivory, as if it was the centerpiece. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cup is rather unassuming, and pales in comparison to the opulent riches surrounding him. It has two engraved handles on either side, and just as he thought is decorated with a badger emblazoned on the front. He steps toward it cautiously, worried that some other untold horror is going to leap out at him. He grasps the handle of the cup and yanks it up, expecting the walls to come crashing down around him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing happens. He sighs in relief. Now for a way out. He turns and looks around, searching for some sort of door. As he moves around the vault, he discovers a small wooden door in the back of the room. He heads toward it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But,  before he can head toward what he hopes is an exit, there is a great groaning noise, and the walls begin to shake and tremble. Cracks start to appear, and like wounds on a body, blood starts oozing from the cracks, running down the walls. A smell of iron coats the air and a metallic taste fills his mouth. Shit. He realizes then, he told Astoria to go back without thinking about the entrance to the vault. She wouldn’t be able to get through without breaking the wards. He has to get to the entrance and open the rock fast. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wrenches open the door, half expecting to be greeted with something awful, but instead is greeted with a narrow staircase, heading up. Draco sighs in relief. He lights his wand so he can see, clutching the cup tightly to his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The relief is short lived, when he finds the stairs to be another trial of its own kind. He must have raced up fifty flights of stairs before he reaches the top. When he reaches the top step, a stone wall to his left slides up, revealing the staircase he had encountered when he and Astoria first entered this underground hell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he reaches the top of this new staircase, dreading having to climb yet more stairs, he almost slips on a wet substance that has coated the stairs near the top. Using the light from his wand, he can see that blood has coated the stairs and the walls. It’s nearly dry now, but he can still smell the strong metallic scent. He sees that the main entrance is open and he follows the trail of blood out the rock entrance with a sickening feeling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There are puddles of blood every few steps. He knows it had to have come from somewhere and he worries that it’s Astoria’s blood, not knowing who else it could be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fucking hell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is so much blood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s to be expected of course. That’s what happens when you break a blood ward. Blood demands blood, and it expects the blood of whoever broke the ward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cool wind blows on his face, but he feels hot and anxious. He calls out “Astoria!”, fear drenching her name,  receiving no answer, except for the howling gale around him. “Astoria! Hey!” The trail of blood abruptly ends. “Shit.” he whispers. He needs to head for the inn, to see if she is okay. Before he does, he needs to cover his tracks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns around and levitates the rock over the entrance, so if anyone comes here they won’t notice the giant gaping hole, leading to a mysterious staircase. He vanishes the blood, the sight of it increasing his worry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grips his wand, and apparates straight inside the hotel room, blanching when the first sight he sees is a large blood stain on the carpet. His eyes wildly trace the room, until they land on Astoria, hair damp, looking as if she recently took a shower, and sleeping soundly. The awful bruises that had covered her face and neck have faded. Her brow is furrowed slightly, as if she is having a troubling dream. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Relief floods him, and he sinks into a chair in the corner of the room, letting his head drop backwards and closing his eyes. He has never felt so tired in all of his life. His entire body aches and his head is pounding.  He reaches up and massages his temples. His body is trembling slightly, whether from remaining adrenaline or fear, or from exhaustion, he doesn’t know. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t intend to stay in the inn overnight, but he doesn’t think he has the energy to go anywhere else tonight. He doesn’t think the Death Eaters will even notice the vault has been broken into and he doesn’t think anyone will miss him for another night.  Besides, Astoria is sleeping and he doesn’t want to wake her up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stumbles into the small bathroom, before ripping off his clothes, still damp and nearly frozen from the underground lake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He enjoys the hot water running over him, ridding him of the ache in his bones temporarily. When he steps out of the shower, he eyes his damp clothes. He doesn’t really feel like getting back into them. He casts a cleaning charm and a drying charm, before slipping his boxers on. There. That would do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He steps out of the bathroom, and he sees the cup discarded on the floor near the bed. He picks it up, and is immediately filled with a sour, bad feeling, with a slight anger washing over him.  He looks around, before spying the mini-fridge under the TV console. He places the cup in the fridge and casts a few protective enchantments on the fridge door. There. That should do it.  As soon as he closes the door to the fridge, the bad feeling is gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He walks to the bed and climbs in next to Astoria, slipping underneath the blankets. If he is honest with himself, he is still mad about the boggart. But right now, he just can’t summon the energy to be too angry. He brushes strands of hair back from her face, his hand smoothing over the fading bruises, sighing heavily. He shouldn’t have been so hard on her. It would be frightening, to not know what had happened to your father, what had happened to you. She had scared him. Really scared him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighs. His mind churns over what the boggart had said. Could it even count as a reliable source? It could just be an idea, a remnant of what Astoria feared the memory </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> be, rather than the true memory. I mean, a ring? Notts ring? What could be so frightening about that? He tries to remember if Nott has been wearing any sort of dark looking ring. The only ring he could recall was Nott’s simple gold wedding band, which certainly didn’t look nefarious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria shifts in her sleep leaning towards him, calling him out of his thoughts. He needs sleep. Rings can wait until tomorrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He curls an arm around her and pulls her to him, enjoying the way she fits against him. She sighs softly but doesn’t wake. It isn’t long before he falls asleep too, listening to her breathing. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0050"><h2>50. Pansy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Pansy elbows Ernie hard, digging into his right side. He’s snoring, and while he does it rarely, it drives Pansy up a wall when it occurs. Ernie gives a grunt of pain while Pansy feigns sleep, acting as if she had accidentally stuck her husband due to a dream or rolling over. Ernie looks over at her, murmuring “Merlin.” Luckily, he moves from his back to his side. That should curb the snoring. He lays there for a few minutes, likely gathering his thoughts. He must have realized what woke him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pansy? Are you awake?” Ernie asks, suspiciously. Damn. She’s been found out. She continues to breathe deeply, fabricating sleep. The Wizarding Academy for the Dramatic Arts should send her an owl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not as if she doesn’t want to talk to Ernie. She likes talking to him. It's just that she knows what he will want to discuss. And, she doesn’t know what to tell him. They can’t do what he wants, even if Pansy wishes they could. He always asks, and she always has to tell him no. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ernie sighs and picks up a lock of her hair, rubbing it between two fingers. “If you talk to me, I’ll get rid of the boggart in the guest bedroom.” Ah, a deal. Pansy opens one eye, breaking character. Perhaps the Academy would have to rescind their offer of education. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine. You know I love a quid pro quo.” Ernie laughs and rests his head on his elbow, propping himself up. “What is it?” Pansy asks, praying it isn’t what she thinks it is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing in particular. I just want to talk to you.” Ernie murmurs, letting his fingers comb through her hair. She sighs in pleasure. She loves it when he plays with her hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s talk.” she murmurs, leaning into his touch. Ernie grins down at her, and slides his hand down from her hair to brush across her collarbone. Pansy got the feeling that talking wasn’t what he wanted to do anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leans down, kissing her softly. Ernie always started soft, and sweet. Such a contrast to relationships she’d had in the past, brief though they were. He drags his lips to her throat, gently tugging her hair back, to give him better access. “Let’s run away together.” he breathes into her neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And there it was. What she had known was coming. She slides her hand into his sandy hair and presses him closer to her. “We can’t.” she breathes. Ernie nips at her neck in response, causing her to gasp. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. We can.” Ernie rolls on top of her, and she relishes in his attention, the way he looks at her. No one has ever looked at her like that and it makes her heart ache, that she has somehow convinced this poor, sweet, man that she is worthy of a look like that. Like she is good. Like she is something to be desired. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ernie, as if sensing something is wrong, leans back down, resting his forehead in the crook of her neck. “Beautiful.” he whispers, tugging her closer to him. Pansy is glad he isn’t looking at her anymore, too focussed on planting soft kisses down her neck and throat.  He might see the tears that come to her eyes. Yes, she is beautiful. She is beautiful and she is terrible. She is a coward, selfish, and most awfully, she is dragging this good, good, man down with her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should run away.” Pansy breathes, breath hitching as Ernie’s hand trails from her hair to her chest. Ernie freezes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” he whispers, lifting his head to look at her. Pansy looks away quickly, staring at the ceiling, not wanting to meet his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can’t both go. But, I could cover for you, and you could leave. With both of us, they’d catch us before we made it as far as Bristol, much less out of the country.” Pansy says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ernie slips a hand under her, pressing into her back, pushing her closer, encouraging her to arch into him. “Look at me.” Pansy does, reluctantly, her heart breaking when she sees the look in his eyes. He won’t go. And it’s all her fault. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, love. I won’t leave you.” he says, leaning down and kissing her. Pansy moans into the kiss, losing herself in it. Later tonight, when Ernie has gone to bed, Pansy will lay awake and wrestle with her guilt. But right now, she can enjoy being loved. She’s never been loved before, and perhaps that is why she does this to him, to herself. Because she can’t give up this feeling now that she has found it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ernie’s hand is gliding up her thigh, pushing her nightgown higher up her leg, when there is a great crash downstairs. Ernie freezes, his grasp on her thigh suddenly becoming tighter, as he meets her eyes, fear seeping into his gaze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was that?” Pansy whispers, although it’s a stupid question, because he doesn’t know anymore than she does. Ernie doesn’t point that out though, and instead squeezes her shoulder in a reassuring way, lifting himself off of her, and grabbing his wand from the bedside table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll go find out. Stay here.” Ernie says. Pansy frowns. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should come with you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ernie shakes his head, and kisses her forehead. “It could be nothing. I don’t want you getting out of bed if it’s just something stupid. If I need you, I’ll call for you.” Pansy doesn’t believe him for a second, but she lets him go. Like she said, she isn’t brave. As Ernie leaves her side and exits the bedroom quietly she grabs her own wand, beginning to shake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe the Death Eaters are mad at them for some unknown reason. Pansy wracks her brain trying to analyze everything she has ever done, searching frantically for her mistake. Maybe Ernie said something? She loves him, but he would be the type to try and do something noble. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Pansy? Come on down! Everything’s fine!” she hears Ernie shout. Pansy gives a great sigh of relief and grabs a dressing gown, slipping it over her nightgown. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy walks down the stairs and when she gets to the first floor, she calls “Ernie? Where are you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Parlor!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she gets to the parlor, Pansy gasps, rushing forward. “I thought you said everything was fine!” she shrieks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I meant there was no immediate danger.” Ernie defends. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He is kneeling beside a figure, who is panting and crying, crumpled in a heap by the fireplace. Pansy can see pretty, golden hair, brushed back into an intricate plait, threaded through with blue ribbon.  Only one person could be crying as if they have just been through hell, and taken the time to have perfect hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daphne? What happened?” Pansy murmurs, settling down beside her, wrapping an arm around her crying friend. Daphne clutches her and Pansy says, “Ernie could you get some tea or something?” Ernie nods, face coated with genuine concern, despite the fact he probably hated Daphne in school. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I’ll be back in a minute.” Ernie gets up off the floor, giving Daphne an awkward pat on the arm, before brushing the top of Pansy’s head as he leaves the room. Daphne shudders and furiously tries to wipe her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne looks glorious, even in her panicked state. Pansy has never known someone could cry so hard, and still look beautiful. It used to annoy her, but Pansy realizes there is a price for being too pretty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daphne. What’s happened? Is it—” Pansy starts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s Theo. Oh god, Pansy. I think he is going to kill me.” Daphne cries. Pansy curses to herself. Damnit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pull it together! You need to tell me what’s happened!” Pansy orders, in her business-like tone. She pulls Daphne up unceremoniously, and guides her to the richly embroidered sofa, watching Daphne clutch a throw-pillow to her chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ernie is back with the tea and hands Daphne a cup, before pouring Pansy one. The tea seems to steel Daphne. Well, as much as Daphne can be steeled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pansy. I love your dressing gown. Is it new? I think I saw one in Twilfit and Tattings that looked like it. I didn’t get it of course, because I was distracted by the most gorgeous shoes—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, Daphne. Don’t do this.” Pansy mutters. When Daphne gets shaken up, she starts talking nonsense about clothes. It’s pathetic really. If one could see the awful, far away look in her eyes they would be quite disturbed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy remembers one time she and Daphne had been in Diagon Alley, when a muggle-born witch had been racing through the streets, trying desperately to escape the Death Eaters behind her. She must have run out of supplies, and had to venture out. Escape was impossible and the witch got hit with a nasty, horrible dark curse. One Pansy didn’t even know. The witch had, as if in a trance, reached up and grabbed her own head, before twisting it grotesquely beneath her grasp, until her neck broke with a sickening crack. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy and Daphne had seen the whole thing. Pansy had stood there, still and quiet. But Daphne? She started talking about how nice the witch’s belt was. Really, very attractive, cinched at the waist like that. Did Pansy think she would be able to find one like it? Speaking of waists, Pansy and her should consider getting corsets. Sure, they weren’t exactly still in style, but maybe they could start the trend together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On and on she went for days, just sitting there, muttering to herself about clothes, makeup, hair, shoes. Pansy had been worried she wouldn’t snap out of it. She did, sort of. Daphne wasn’t great at Occlumency, but she had trained her mind to be able to think of anything, but what was important. Pansy loves Daphne, but it makes her so damn angry, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne turns toward Pansy, suddenly clutching her hand. “I love your ring. Ernie, you really did such a nice job picking it out. Oh, Pansy do you remember your wedding dress? My mother said you looked like an absolute tart, but that isn’t true. It was so bold, so confident. Ernie looked like he might have fainted when you came down the aisle. And the shoes you wore? To die for, I mean—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enough Daphne! Stop it! Tell me what happened, or I’ll force Vertiaserum down your throat!” Pansy shouts. Ernie gives her a disapproving look. He didn’t understand Daphne. Daphne didn’t respond well to sweet pleadings to be quiet and listen. She needed to be scared out of whatever stupid trance she put herself into. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It works. Daphne’s blue eyes, that had been dull and foggy, now snapped to look at Pansy, clarity returned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...I...It’s Theo. We got into a disagreement. I thought he might kill me, Pansy. So, I ran. I came here. It’s the only place I could think of. I’m sorry.” Daphne says, burying her face in her hands. Pansy sighs heavily, and pours Daphne some more tea, rubbing her friends arm lightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We talked about this, Daphne. You told me he wasn’t dangerous!” Pansy scolds, running a hand through her hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He isn’t! Or, I mean, at least he wasn’t! He never laid a hand on me. He might yell or insult me sometimes, but he always apologizes. I didn’t think...I never thought…” Daphne dissolves into sobs before she can finish. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daphne, relax. It’s okay. It’s not your fault, I didn’t mean it like that. Just tell me what happened!” Pansy tries, squeezing Daphne’s arm. Daphne shoots Ernie a worried, mistrustful look. While Daphne had always been sweet to Ernie, despite Ernie’s coldness towards her, it seemed in this moment she didn’t want Ernie around. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ernie gets the hint and awkwardly stands up. “I’m going to see about that boggart. Call me if you need me, yeah?” Pansy smiles at him and nods. “I’m sorry Daphne, really. I hope we can figure all this out.” Ernie says, giving Daphne a sympathetic smile. Daphne gives him a curt nod as he leaves the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daphne, can you tell me what happened? Please?” Pansy says, trying not to sound whiny. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m still working at the Center, volunteering of course.” Daphne says. Pansy groans. Seriously? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daphne. I need you to tell me what happened. No center. No clothes. No parties. No nothing. Nothing but the truth. Do you hear me?” Panys says evenly, fighting to control her tone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am! You didn’t let me finish!” Daphne snaps, her tea sloshing out of her cup slightly, as her hands begin to tremble violently, wincing as the hot tea hits her hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry. Go on.” Pansy says gently, taking the cup from her friend’s hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, anyway. I went to see Mrs. Black. You know, she never liked me. She always much preferred you.” Daphne complains. Pansy smiles. This was true. She and Andromeda got on well. “Oh, Pansy. You know that she knows just how to get under my skin, just how to rile me up! She started talking about Astoria, and, well I just couldn’t take it!” Daphne sobs, burying her face in her hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Daph. You didn’t curse her, did you?” Pansy asks apprehensively. Andromeda could be… abrasive. And Daphne didn’t do well under pressure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! I shouted at her!” Pansy shakes her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daphne come on. She doesn’t care that you shouted.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Pansy. It’s what I shouted.” Daphne says quietly, grabbing the throw pillow again, and shoving her face into it, letting out a piteous groan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daph? What did you shout?” Pansy whispers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wished the Death Eaters dead.” Daphne says, voice barely over a whisper. However, it's as if she shouted it. The house is deathly quiet, as if afraid the Dark Lord himself will leap from the shadows. Pansy smiles as she hears Ernie shout a curse upstairs, no doubt at the boggart. The sound reminds  her that someone is here. Someone would help her, no matter what. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, Daphne. Okay. Calm down. Is Andromeda the only one who heard you? She won’t tell.” Pansy asks, giving Daphne a small shake, helping her collect herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes I think so. But, when I ran into Draco yesterday, he told me to tell Theodore about it. He said Theodore could get ahead of the issue, make sure no one had heard or was looking into things. If they were, he may be able to keep it quiet.” Daphne explains, voice slightly steadier now. Pansy sighs. A clever plan, were Nott a normal man, and not a horror in disguise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daphne, you didn’t tell him. You had to have known how bullshit that was. I like Draco, but he is a real idiot sometimes—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Draco was right. Theo didn’t get mad at me over that.” Daphne interrupts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He got really quiet when I told him, and I was so nervous, Pansy. But, he just got up and held me, saying he would take care of it. He said he knew I could be silly sometimes, knew I said things I didn’t mean when I got upset. He actually, can you believe it, told me to lie down and rest, calm down.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy’s eyes are wide with shock. “Oh. So, what happened Daphne. What made him so angry?” Daphne swallows and reaches for the tea cup, sniffing distastefully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have vodka?” Pansy frowns. Daphne drinks little fruity drinks, girly and elegant. Not vodka. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Ernie and I only drink wine. A small glass at dinner. We don’t like to get drunk.” Daphne sighs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, anyway. Theo and I sat down for dinner this evening. He didn’t even bring up the incident, but he started talking about his...job, which you know that I hate.” Daphne starts.  Pansy nods. All the Death Eater wives hate it. There is a general rule, that what happens at “work” stays at “work.” Mrs. Yaxley had been complaining to Pansy about it at dinner just a few weeks ago. “It just isn’t appropriate conversation! And around the children!” Pansy shook her head. Ridiculous, in her opinion. They didn’t mind fucking Death Eaters. Oh, but mention what they did, what they</span>
  <em>
    <span> actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> did? The horror. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.” Pansy says, and she is reminded just how good she has it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I told him to stop. I didn’t mean for it to come out so harshly, I swear. But, I suppose my nerves have just been shot. I mean, you cannot imagine the year I have had. First, my husband gets crazier and crazier, then my father is found, well, you know. Then, my sister is...I don’t even know, made an example of? At the end, I’ve just been so tired. Too tired. I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>too damn tired</span>
  </em>
  <span> to just keep pretending that I’m fine. And, I snapped.” Daphne has leaped up from the sofa and is pacing, hands tangling into her braid, ripping strands of hair loose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Snapped?” Pansy asks quietly, her own palms beginning to shake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daphne, what do you mean? What happened? Please.” Pansy pleads, getting up and walking to the liquor cabinet, the inside of which is covered in dust, and pulls out a bottle of vodka, stuffed in the very back corner. She pours herself some into her tea, and offers the bottle to Daphne, who chugs it. “Don’t tell Ernie.” she whispers, taking the bottle from Daphne and shoving it back in its hiding place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks.” Daphne whispers, closing her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daph. Come on.” Pansy whispers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said I didn’t want to be married to someone who did such awful things. So, if he wanted me to stay with him, he better make sure to keep his business private. But, see, I didn’t ‘say’ it. I screamed it. Violently. Oh my, Pansy. I didn’t think I could shout like that.” Daphne sinks back down, this time in a plush armchair. She examines a lock of her hair critically, sniffing in distaste. “It was rather...unbecoming.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Daphne.” Pansy groans. She can just about imagine how that went over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He didn’t take it well. He looked at me for a minute, and at first, I thought he wasn’t going to say anything. But Pansy. He got up so fast. He just rushed at me, and he didn’t exactly hurt me, he just got up in my face, and he had his wand out. Pansy, it was the way he was talking. I’ve never heard such absolute madness in all my life.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did he say?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne has fallen silently. She is shivering violently. Pansy lights the hearth with her wand and repeats “What did he say, Daphne?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s go to Paris.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That boutique, where we got those gowns last year? I need a new gown for the Christmas Eve Ball and I—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daphne! If you don’t tell me everything. Right fucking now! I’ll hex you into next week!” Pansy is heaving and she hears Ernie come down the stairs, no doubt coming to eavesdrop right outside the door after hearing Pany’s outburst.  Daphne is staring at her. Gaping. Pansy sighs. “Please.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He said he knew the Dark Lord’s secret.” Daphne whispers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy could feel her heart stop. “What? What secret?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He didn’t say. Then, he started talking about how he had figured out how the Dark Lord had gotten his power, and he whispered in my ear, that he had figured out how to do it himself.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do what?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He didn’t say. I can’t explain it, Pansy. But I got the worst feeling. Like, I just looked into his eyes, and I knew he was gone. Really gone this time. That isn’t my Theo. I don’t know who that is, but it isn’t my Theo.” Daphne is shaking, sobbing. It occurs to Pansy then, that maybe, Daphne had loved Nott, before he had morphed into whatever creature he was now. Pansy kneels by the chair and embraces Daphne.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay. Did he hurt you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I...he tried, but he didn’t. I, see, after he said all that, I was so frightened, I tried to run. I couldn’t get away though, he was holding onto me so tightly. He kept saying I would never leave him, I couldn’t leave him. He held up his hand, and gestured to his wedding ring. He said I was bound to him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daphne—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Let me finish. Before I lose my nerve.” Pansy nods, giving Daphne’s hand a squeeze. “I grabbed his ring. I tried to pull it off. I can’t explain why, really. But, all that stuff he was saying, it just made me so angry, and I wanted to take it back. Take back the marriage. So I grabbed the ring. But, when I touched it. Oh Pansy. I felt something. Something dark, and something evil. I can’t—” Daphne shudders, and gathers herself. “He got really angry when I touched his ring. He shot so many spells at me, I barely got away. I ran out the door and got upstairs. I was able to floo here, but I don’t know. I don’t know if he knows where I am. I’m so sorry, Pansy. I—” </span>
</p><p><span><br/></span> <span>“Shh. It’s okay. It’s okay. Why don’t you go lie down, okay?” Pansy picks up Daphne and leads her out to a guest bedroom. One that didn’t have a boggart. They pass Ernie, just where Pansy knew he would be. He looks grim, and luckily Daphne doesn’t see him. After she is able to get Daphne settled somewhere, she comes back down to the parlor. </span></p><p>
  <span>Ernie is staring at the fire in the hearth, and it casts a warm glow on his features. He is standing, arms crossed. When he hears her enter, he turns to look at her, giving her a small smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I disconnected from the floo network. In case Nott wants to try to find her.” Pansy nods. Ernie walks over to her, and brushes tears from her face. Pansy didn’t even realize she had been crying. “Is Daphne okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. I mean, she isn’t hurt. Expect to hear a lot of useless chatter for the next couple days. Go easy on her. I don’t think she realizes she does it half the time.” Ernie nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you okay?” he asks, pulling her to him. His embrace is warm and Pansy sighs, drinking in the feeling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. How much did you hear?” Pansy whispers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I heard what Nott said about the Dark Lord. And the stuff about the ring. It...doesn’t sound good.” Ernie says softly, his hand going to brush her hair back from her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. Do you...know anything?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I don’t know much about any secrets the Dark Lord has.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Potter. Did he ever—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. If you weren’t Ron or Hermione, he didn’t tell you anything. He always told us as  little as possible. Maybe there is a reason for that, but it’s a reason I don’t know.” His tone is bitter and Pansy nods sympathetically. Ernie doesn’t have any friends anymore. Just her. It’s hard for him. He resents being left behind. “If he told us, we could have helped him. I would have done anything—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.” Pansy places a hand on the back of his neck and pushes his lips down to hers. Ernie clutches at her tightly, his hands fisting in her dressing gown.  “Let’s go to bed, yeah?” Pansy whispers, tugging her with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” He follows her up, and when Pansy lies back down, he pulls her into his side. She closes her eyes, and tries to ignore the sound of Daphne crying below them. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0051"><h2>51. Astoria</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Astoria jerks herself awake. The TV is on, but Astoria doesn’t remember turning it on.  It’s some show, but the figures in the box are cooking the muggle way. There are so many appliances and they all look so complicated. </p><p>Her eyes roam the room. She can see signs that someone has been here, things moved around, and Draco’s coat lies across the armchair in the corner. The other side of the bed is rumpled and Astoria realizes that he must have slept next to her at some point. She turns red at the thought, before calling out softly, “Draco?” </p><p>There isn’t an answer. She gets out of bed and pokes her head into the small washroom, rather shyly, but he isn’t there. She calls for him again, but he’s gone. </p><p>Maybe he’s left her. </p><p>She hears the door open, and Draco walks in, carrying a small brown bag. He freezes when he sees her, but Astoria launches herself toward him, hugging him tightly. He hesitates a moment, before wrapping his arms around her, letting the bag fall to the floor. </p><p>“Hey.” he says, a little awkwardly. </p><p>“Are you alright? Did you get what you needed? What happened after I left? When did you get back? Why didn’t you wake me? Why—” </p><p>“Astoria! Merlin, one at a time, okay?” Astoria drops her arms, but Draco doesn’t let go of her. His hold is loose, and he is giving her a strange look. </p><p>“You should have woken me up, and told me you were back! I was really worried.” </p><p>Draco laughs. “Yeah. So worried you slept peacefully all night?” </p><p>“I was really worried. I was just also really tired.” Astoria mumbles. Draco laughs again. </p><p>“Well, from what I saw, you lost a lot of blood. It probably made you tired. It’s good you slept.” Draco says. Astoria nods. </p><p>“Yeah. It was a lot of blood.” Astoria eyes where the stain had been  on the carpet. Draco must have cleaned it at some point. Astoria looks down at her ankle, where the word “Thief.” is still etched into her skin in angry red lines. Draco follows her gaze and frowns. </p><p>“Astoria.” he breathes, dropping on one knee his hands running along the side of her ankle. “Why did you break the blood ward?” Draco asks. Astoria shifts, hissing in pain as Draco’s fingers brush the sensitive skin. “Sorry.” </p><p>“No, it doesn’t hurt that much.” Astoria lies. “It was the only way I could get out. One person can’t get past the selma, so I had to break the wards to leave.” </p><p>Draco nods, standing back up. “Well, you got out okay. That’s what matters. I’m impressed, honestly.” </p><p>“Impressed?” Astoria asks, incredulously. </p><p>“Yes.  I’m impressed. You should feel good. It is extremely difficult to impress me.” Draco smirks down at her. </p><p>Astoria is slightly stunned, and she can’t fight the grin that spreads across her face. “Why?” </p><p>“You exceeded my expectations, with the selma, the cavern, the hallways that weren’t hallways. Everything.” His eyes are laughing at her, and Astoria can’t help but feel that while he is being serious, he is also making fun of her. </p><p>“What about—” she begins, thinking of the boggart. </p><p>“The boggart? Well, I must admit that did detract from your overall score, but I would still give you an E. Not an O, but I suppose it will have to do.” He is teasing her. </p><p>“You aren’t angry?” </p><p>“I’m not happy about it. But, I decided I have better things to do than be upset.” </p><p>“You were right. I—” </p><p>“Oh, Greengrass!” Draco throws his head back in mock ecstasy, eyes closing. “Say it again.” </p><p>“Draco, I’m trying to apologize!” </p><p>“Skip the apology.  I said I have better things to do than be upset.” Astoria turns bright red, but Draco is already leaning down to kiss her.  His lips catch hers lightly, but it wasn’t long, until his arms were pressing her body into his and she could feel him deepen the kiss. She sighs  into him and feels his hands race up her spine and one slips into her hair, while the other travels back down to grip her waist. His lips move against hers slowly, languidly.  </p><p>Astoria sighs into the kiss and she can feel Draco smirk against her lips. Her arms are still hanging by her sides, and when Draco bites her lower lip, she reaches for him, clutching herself to him, pulling him down, needing more. Draco backs her toward the bed and she can feel her heart race, pumping, screaming, jumping. His eyes are dark with something she isn’t familiar with and it sends a shiver racing down her spine. Her head is spinning and when he pushes her onto the mattress, she squeaks in surprise. </p><p>He chuckles at her, leaning down and pressing his lips to hers again. It is slow, thorough and toe-curling. His hands are running up her sides and toward her chest. His knees are on either side of her waist, caging her beneath him, and when his hand brushes over her chest she gasps. Her heart skips a beat and the smell of the inn’s shampoo is almost overwhelming. </p><p>A wave of heat washes over her, as he slips his tongue into her mouth. She moans into the kiss and slides her hands down his chest towards his hips. He makes a low, delicious sound in the back of his throat, and Astoria jumps slightly. Draco tries to pull back but Astoria follows him, pulling him back down. He breaks the kiss anyway, moving his lips to her throat, her neck, just behind her ear, her collarbone. When he bites gently where the curve of her neck meets her shoulder, she gasps his name. </p><p>“I should have kissed you.” he murmurs, his lips running farther down her neck, dangerously low. “I should have kissed you, underground. I didn’t. I’m sorry.” His words vibrate against her skin and she marvels at how heightened her senses have become. She never thought she was this sensitive. </p><p>“You’re kissing me now.” Astoria gasps, her fingers slipping under his shirt, tentatively feeling the skin underneath. Draco hisses when she makes contact causing her to start to pull away, worrying she somehow hurt him. Draco reaches a hand back to hers, pressing against the back of her hand, keeping it in place. </p><p>His lips slam back onto hers fervently, and she slides her hands up his chest. He pulls away then, suddenly, almost collapsing on top of her, breathing hard. He rolls to the side and stares at the ceiling. </p><p>“Why did you stop?” she asks, before she can stop herself. He doesn’t say anything, and when she looks at him she can see that his eyes are screwed shut. </p><p>“Give me a minute.” is all he responds with. Astoria buries her head in the pillows beneath her. She didn’t know how to do this sort of thing, and she is sure she somehow messed up. She can’t believe she never asked Daphne or even Pansy about this sort of thing. They could have told her what she was supposed to be doing. </p><p>Draco’s hand covers her own, and he plays with her fingers, almost absentmindedly. “I don’t think we should.” he says at last. “It would be…” he trails off as though he can’t find the right words. “It wouldn’t be right. It wouldn’t be proper.” </p><p>“Proper? But you’ve slept with other people before. I don’t understand—” </p><p>“That’s other people. Not you. I actually care about you. It wasn’t real, with them. </p><p>“Oh.” </p><p>“I want to. But, I think we should wait.” </p><p>“Until when?” Astoria asks. Her stomach is rolling and clenching with nerves. She can’t do this sort of thing. She isn’t cut out for it. She wishes Draco would let go of her hand. She needs to feel something. With her other hand she runs her fingers over the sheets. They are a simple cotton. She has silk one’s in her bedroom. Of course, cotton is better than the couch she has been sleeping on. </p><p>“Until you're not my prisoner. I mean, you aren’t. Not really. But, this isn’t exactly an honorable situation.” </p><p>“Since when did you care about honor?” Astoria asks, tone more curious than biting. </p><p>“I don’t. Unless it’s yours. That’s different.” Draco moves his hand to trace across her cheek, examining the remnant of the bruise she earned from the boggart. </p><p>He pushes himself towards her and kisses her delicately and sweet. “I want to. I really,<em> really </em> do. But, I can’t do that Astoria.” </p><p>She nods. “That’s fine. I think you're probably right. I just...thought I did something wrong.” she mutters when he pulls away. Draco laughs. </p><p>“There was nothing wrong about what you just did.” he breathes into her ear and she shivers again.  If Astoria is honest with herself, she feels grateful that everything has stopped. She isn’t ready for something like that. Now that her heart rate is normal, her head isn’t spinning, her senses aren’t flooded, and he isn’t so close, she can think. </p><p>“I need to tell you a story. We missed yesterday. We should probably do two.” Draco groans. </p><p>“Not two. I hate them, you know that?” </p><p>“I know, but we need to get through all of them. If we are making a break for it, to find the Order, we need to finish. Trust me.” Astoria doesn’t know much about the stories and their meaning, but she can tell that they are important. </p><p>“Fine, fine. I brought us breakfast.” Draco reaches over and picks up the bag, grabbing a muffin for Astoria, handing it to her. </p><p>“Thanks. I love streusel. How did you know?” </p><p>“I didn’t. There were only two left and I wanted the blueberry.” Draco says, taking his own muffin out, taking a bite. As he swallows he says, “I took a bite already, so no switching.” </p><p>Astoria rolls her eyes. “Selfish.” </p><p>“Mm, that may be true. In life, there are givers and takers. I’d rather be a taker.” He is smirking at her. “However, since I like you Greengrass, I’m willing to part with one bite of the blueberry. That’s my final offer.” He pokes her side causing her squirm. </p><p>“I don’t want your blueberry. You already had your mouth on it.” </p><p>“That’s what you're worried about? My mouth was just on—” </p><p>“Draco!” Draco winks at her and shrugs. “Scoundrel.” Astoria mutters. </p><p>“Alright, alright. Merlin, woman. Go easy on me. I’m sensitive.” Draco says, taking another bite of his muffin. Astoria rolls her eyes, picking at her own muffin. </p><p>“So. Did you get it? Whatever you were supposed to get?” Astoria asks, taking a bite of her muffin. </p><p>“Yes. I did. Would you believe it, there was another beast behind that trap door? Uglier than the selma too, just not quite as big.” </p><p>“Where did you put it? The thing?” Astoria presses. </p><p>“The mini-fridge.” Draco takes another bite of his muffin. </p><p>“What?” </p><p>“That metal box. It keeps things cold.” Draco gestures to the box near the TV. </p><p>“Oh. Does it need to be kept cold?” </p><p>“No, I just don’t want you to look at it.” Astoria tries to fight her disappointment.</p><p>“I see. Clever. I would have never thought to look in there.” Astoria remarks sarcastically.  She had been hoping to see what they had tried so hard to get, but it seemed like that wasn’t an option. </p><p>“I know.  That’s why I stashed it there.” </p><p>“Aren’t you worried the cold will damage it?” </p><p>“No. If that thing gets damaged, I’ll probably start singing.” Draco remarks, finishing off his muffin, throwing the wrapper towards the bin, but missing. </p><p>“That’s why you didn’t play chaser.” teases Astoria. </p><p>“Big talk from someone who can’t even play quidditch.” Draco scowls in her direction. Astoria has nothing to say to that, but she throws her wrapper, and it lands in the bin. She smiles at him. “You cheated. Mine didn’t go in because I was distracted.” </p><p>“Distracted?” Astoria laughs. </p><p>“Yes. You distracted me. If I’d been focused, nothing could have stood in my way.” </p><p>“Ah. My apologies.” </p><p>“You can make it up to me later.” Draco nudges her leg with his knee. “Okay, so I’ve made an executive decision.” </p><p>“Oh? And what is that?” Astoria asks, trying not to let an undignified snort slip through. </p><p>“You will tell me a story now, and then one tonight when we get back to Spinner’s End. That way, we don’t have to do it all at once.” Draco orders. </p><p>Astoria nods. “Fair enough. </p><p>“What have we got today?” Draco asks, stretching his arms over his head. </p><p>“One called The Doe and The Beast and one called Death.” </p><p>“Wow. Death? That’s encouraging.” Draco drawls. </p><p>“Not about <em> your </em> death, don’t worry. It’s about Death in general. Like, Death the being.” Astoria explains. </p><p>“Oh, goody. What about the other one?” </p><p>“It’s about your godfather. I don’t think it has much to do with your task or anything, and I don’t think it’s meant to teach you any sort of lesson. I think he just wanted you to know.” Astoria says, gently. </p><p>“Know what?” </p><p>“About him. Why he did what he did. Why he changed sides, and why the Dark Lord killed him. He cared about you, Draco. I think he cared about you a lot.” Astoria whispers. Draco turns to look at her, his eyes are wide. Astoria reaches out, brushing hair off of his forehead. “Which do you want to do first?” </p><p>“The one about him.” Draco says, eyes slipping closed. Astoria lets her fingers trace the lines of his face. He has such sharp features, really. Cheekbones, jaw, lips. “Astoria?” he says, smiling against her fingers. </p><p>“Sorry.” She goes to pull her hand away, but he catches it, threading his fingers through hers. </p><p>“Okay. The Doe and The Beast.” </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0052"><h2>52. Draco</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“The Doe and The Beast.” Draco grabs Astoria, pulling her to him. He lays there with his arms curled around her, trying to gain some semblance of courage. It’s not about him, he has to remind himself. He can breathe easier, as long as it’s not about him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Once upon a time, there was a great ugly beast. The beast was bitter in all ways, for he lived a most miserable life. One day, the beast was walking up to the river for a drink of water, when out of the corner of his eye, the beast saw a beautiful doe.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco closes his eyes and listens to her voice. It’s always been soft and quiet when she tells him the stories. She tries not to inflect her voice, as though to make it more honest and less of a production, a dramatic retelling of his life. But about half-way through the story she always forgets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The beast was entranced by the doe, for it was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes upon. However, the beast knew it would be unwise to approach the doe for nature's laws dictate beasts destroy does. However, the beast lacks strength of character, and though in his heart he knows it can only end in her destruction, he offers friendship to the doe. The doe is a kind creature, and accepts, for she believes in turning no one away from the gift of friendship.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria’s voice has already grown stronger and it dips and curves in time to the story. Draco smiles. He is relaxed, sleepy almost, though he knows he should pay attention. He is having trouble discerning who the doe is, and it occurs that perhaps he isn’t meant to know. Maybe the story is for him, but the ‘who’ is private. This doesn’t bother Draco. He also prefers privacy, himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The beast and the doe form an unlikely friendship, and perhaps it was doomed to fail from the beginning.  Although for a time they were able to fight the odds, it wasn’t long until the two friends grew apart. Others disapproved of the friendship, claiming that nature’s laws should never be defied and they deemed the amity fated to come to an end. And, they were right.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco sighed. It was the makings of a sad story, and he didn’t want to be sad. He’d been sad for a long time. He thought this story about his godfather would provide some insight, some missing piece he was looking for. Instead, he has no idea what it meant, which is beginning to frustrate him. Astoria, as if sensing his mood, nervously begins to trace the edge of his shirt sleeve. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The beast came to love the doe, but the doe could not return his affection. So, the beast grew angry and bitter and was lured to the Devourer’s side with empty promises, searching for a way to end the hurt he felt. Soon however, it came time for nature to run its course.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco frowns. In a way, it sort of reminded him of his friendship with Lovegood. They were never supposed to have become friends. When someone is locked in your cellar, you typically don’t strike up pleasant conversation with them. And, he hadn’t intended to. If he hadn’t felt so guilty, he probably would have never approached her. It did seem at times, like their friendship was destined from the beginning to end. Draco was supposed to be on the side that hurt people, and she was on the one that saved people. Nature’s laws, alright. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The beast was travelling, and one day, overheard a clairvoyant speaking of a fawn, meant to destroy the Devourer. The beast ran straight to the Devourer and told him all that he had heard. However, the beast did not anticipate the Devourer’s next move. He did not predict the Devourer would implicate the doe in the clairvoyant’s message.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco sighs. What clairvoyant? What message? It didn’t make any sense to him. It was supposed to be in code. He knew that. But, this was a code he couldn’t decipher. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Devourer feared the doe’s fawn would lead to his destruction. And, he went forth to the doe, killing her. However, when the Devourer went to kill the fawn, he was instead vanquished, if only for a time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco raises his eyebrows. Oh. That was Potter. That meant his godfather had been in love with...oh. That was a tragic story. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The beast had caused the doe’s destruction, for he was the one who altered the clairvoyant to the Devourer’s attention. Nature was correct. Beasts destroy does. However, the beast swore he would never succumb to the rules of Mother Nature again. He swore for the rest of his days he would seek the ruination of the Devourer. The beast sacrificed years of his life to the cause the doe died to protect. The beast watched the fawn become knight. And, though everyone around him thinks him a beast, it is he who knows that in his heart, he  is a doe.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco sighs heavily. That was unexpected. It seems his godfather had long been a traitor to the Dark Lord. It was sad, really. Everyone, including Draco had thought his godfather was a loyal, devoted Death Eater. Everyone who fought for the Order hated him. But, in the end, his godfather had been fighting with them until the end. He remembers the shock everyone had felt, when the Dark Lord had told them all that Snape was a traitor. The Dark Lord offered no explanation, simply telling his followers that Snape had died a traitor. That was all the explanation Draco received, and he knew better than to try and ask for more. This story filled the part of him that had been aching to know what happened, wishing he could discern the truth that he had been far too afraid to attempt to uncover for himself. It was not a happy story, but it was nonetheless a good one. There was always hope for redemption. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s it.” Astoria whispers. She turns to look at him, but he doesn’t feel like talking right now. He simply nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s pack up and leave. I want to get out of here.” Draco murmurs. Astoria slowly disentangles herself from him, and climbs off the bed. As she is pulling on her boots and slipping on her coat, Draco turns to do the same. He reaches for the horcrux, and stuffs it in the bag, careful to keep it from Astoria’s view. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will we take the train?” Astoria asks quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco shakes his head. “No. We can just apparate back. We’ve been there before, so there’s no need to travel by  train.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Right.” Astoria says. She starts to make the bed, but Draco grabs her arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on. They have people who come by and clean the rooms. They have to take the sheets off anyway.” Astoria frowns but grabs her wand and follows Draco out the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should we tell them we are leaving?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I say if Death Eaters come looking, it’s better for them to think we are somewhere we aren’t. We don’t want to lead them to our actual location.” Draco explains. Draco grabs her arm and that all too familiar feeling of apparition comes over him. Astoria gives a small gasp of discomfort before they are hurtled to the steps of his godfather’s house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco ushers Astoria inside quickly, glancing around nervously. He should have thought of the inside of the house rather than the outside. When they get inside, Astoria sits down on the couch and closes her eyes. Draco notices her shivering slightly from the cold, so he starts a fire in the hearth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I ask you a personal question?” Astoria asks softly, opening her eyes to look at him. Draco shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other, before heavily sitting down next to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can ask. I might not answer.” he replies. Astoria frowns. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s fine. I probably shouldn’t ask, and you should in no way feel any pressure to answer, but I was—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Astoria. Just ask.” Draco interrupts, placing his hand on her knee, smiling softly when her eyes drop to his hand, widening slightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s your boggart?” she murmurs. Draco laughs. An easy one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t know?” Astoria asks, disbelief coloring her features. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I’ve never actually faced one myself. So, I don’t actually know what my worst fear is. I’m not too keen on finding out, though.” Draco explained. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Well, I guess that’s good then.” Astoria murmurs, laying her head on his shoulder closing her eyes. Draco stares at her a few moments, before suddenly remembering something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey. I got you something.” he whispers. She perks up with sudden interest and Draco smirks at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” she asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me get it.” Draco walks over to one of the shopping bags, still sitting on the kitchen counter. He pulls out the book he had gotten her, and hands it to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jane Eyre? How did you get this?” Astoria asks, her eyes brightening and dancing. Draco smiles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I bought it. In a shop.” Draco says flatly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A muggle one? And they just gave it to you? That’s insane.” Astoria grins excitedly. Draco shakes his head. He could tell her how mundane it actually had been, and he would, eventually.  But it was too much fun watching her look at him as if he had just fought a dragon to get her the book. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was quite insane.” he drawls, only a little sarcastically. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should read it!” Astoria says eagerly. Draco frowns. He’s never really read a muggle book before. But, she looks so excited that he doesn’t want to ruin her mood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know...that book seems to have a high fatality rate. Didn’t it get you killed?” Draco teases. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m alive.” Astoria replies hotly. Draco rolls his eyes but takes the book back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright. I suppose I’ll have to risk it. There aren’t any Death Eaters around here, right?” Draco asks, pretending to check under the couch for one that might be hiding. Astoria laughs lightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just one. But, I don’t think he would snitch. He’s well on his way to getting fired anyway” She teases, nudging him with her shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fired? No, they can’t fire him. He’s the best looking Death Eater!” Draco defends. Astoria rolls her eyes, shaking her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco sits down beside her, and holds the book in between them. Astoria reads along with him, looking over his shoulder. Every once in a while, Draco will see her glance up to catch his expression, trying to see what he might be thinking. He keeps his face schooled behind a mask of indifference. It isn’t really his sort of book. He doesn’t like romance novels, but when Astoria asks him if he likes it, he tells her he does. It isn’t a complete lie, of course. He likes that she likes it. He likes to see her facial expressions change when they get to a part she must enjoy. He likes how she mouths the words of the book as she reads, and when she huffs impatiently, already done reading the page that he is still glancing over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco and Astoria read for a while, they eat something, and then, they talk. Draco prods Astoria for information about herself, but she doesn’t give up much. She gives short answers, before asking him questions. She avoids his personal life, perhaps in an attempt to discourage him from asking about hers, and asks him more about the places he had travelled, what his favorite quidditch team was, and all sorts of mundane information. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not answering any more of your questions.” Draco announces. Astoria raises her eyebrows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was talking too much. I didn’t mean too—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. You weren’t talking enough.” Draco interrupts. Astoria gives him a confused look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t answer any of my questions, so I’m not answering yours.” Draco says flatly. Astoria gives him an exasperated look. It occurs to Draco that it may have been a rather childish statement. Astoria looks as if she is debating herself, before sighing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine. What do you want to know?” Astoria turns to look at him, and Draco tilts his head to the side, considering her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me about school. What did you do? You know, besides stalk me and make binding deals with potions professors.” Draco teases. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria glares at him. “I was in Slytherin. I had a very typical seven years, honestly. You’ve already seen the most exciting parts of my school years. I just studied, hung out with my friends, and tried to avoid catching the eyes of the Carrows, which I did. So, there isn’t much to tell.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco raises his eyebrows. She is avoiding his gaze now, staring at the floor. “What was your favorite subject?” he asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“History of Magic.” Astoria says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Liar!” Draco scoffs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am not!” Astoria says. “I really did like it. I just didn’t listen to Bins lectures, and read the textbook the entire time. It was all really interesting stuff.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm. Well, I must say, I used his class as an opportunity to nap. But, you know, reading the textbook is good too.” Draco jokes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are laughing now, but I was the only student in the N.E.W.T class. It was just me, all by myself, but he didn’t even notice. He used to ask questions, and he would scan the room, saying “Anyone class? Anyone besides Miss Greengrass? She always answers you know. Someone else ought to take a turn. No one? Very well. Miss Greengrass?” So you can imagine me trying not to laugh.” Draco shook his head, laughing.  It had been a near perfect impersonation of Professor Bins. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was that your only N.E.W.T?” Draco asks. Astoria shoots him an insulted look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! Obviously not. I took Charms, Transfiguration, Defense, and Ancient Runes, too. I loved Ancient Runes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah? How come?” Draco turns toward Astoria. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, I just really liked it. I like languages, you know. It’s the only thing growing up, that I was better than Daphne in, so I guess I just liked it because I was good at it.” Draco nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about friends? Who were your friends?” Draco asks, picking up Astoria’s hand and playing with her fingers. She has small hands, and it’s clear she bites her nails. He has never seen her do it, but her nails are short and jagged. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I don’t know. I was friends with the Carrow twins, but they when their...er...relatives got to Hogwarts, they sort of stopped talking to everyone. I mean, I tried to tell them it wasn’t their fault or anything, but they didn’t really listen. And then, I was god friends with Stretton, but we haven’t really talked since Hogwarts. My best friend has always been Daphne.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I always wanted a brother.” Draco murmurs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. My mother wouldn’t hear of it though. She never talked about it, but I think she had a few miscarriages. There is this little box in her closet that has little paper copies of the night sky, and she circled a few constellations. I thought they were just other possible names or something, but they all had dates written on the back. I don’t know, though. I can’t be sure.” Draco sighs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s really sad, Draco. I don’t know what to say.” Astoria kisses his cheek softly. Draco smiles down at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright. It’s not that big of a deal.” he dismisses. Astoria looks like she wants to object, but Draco kisses her quickly on the mouth, drawing back to look at her stunned expression, smirking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s about five. Why don’t you tell me the story now?” Draco asks. He lays down across the couch, placing his head in Astoria’s lap, lip quirking at her annoyed expression. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your heavy.” she complains, but her hand is already playing with his hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll have to diet.” Draco murmurs. Astoria giggles lightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, well this story is not exactly original, and I’m pretty sure you will have heard it before. You know that story, The Three Brothers?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s banned Astoria!” Draco says, giving her a glare. It’s true. The Tales of Beedle the Bard have been banned on all fronts. You aren’t supposed to speak of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria rolls her eyes. “So? It’s not like we don’t know what they are. We’ve heard them our whole lives. Just because the Dark Lord says we all have to forget about them, doesn’t mean we actually do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco shakes his head. “Just how many rules did you break?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How many did </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> break?” Astoria returns, hotly. Draco sighs. Okay, fine. A fair few. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what? This is that story?” Draco asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pretty much. He calls it ‘Death’ so its a little different. It focuses on  just the wand.” Astoria explains. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The wand? Why? It doesn’t exist. The stone doesn’t, the cloak doesn’t, none of it. It’s just a story, Astoria.” Draco tries. Even as he says it, he has a sudden flashback to Hogsmeade, and Potter’s head floating above him. At the time, he hadn’t known what that was. He had been sure that Potter had been there, but how on earth he had been able to just disappear had confused him. What if— no. It just wasn’t possible. And even so, it was likely a cloak with a disillusionment charm. A very good charm, but a charm nonetheless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know Draco. But, I know Snape wouldn’t have put it in here if it wasn’t important.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, fine.” Draco mumbles, rolling his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry. He paraphrases. It’s not a long one.” Astoria says, and Draco sighs, angling his head toward her hand. He loves when she touches his hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get started.” Astoria frowns a little at his tone, but she begins. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright. Here we go. Death.” Draco gives another huff of annoyance, but Astoria pretends she does not hear him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Death was travelling  the earth, searching for the next souls he would claim as his. As he searched, he came across three brothers attempting to cross a great river. The river was unbelievably fast, and the rapids had led all those who tried to cross before to meet their end. However, Death saw the brothers pull out their wands, and begin to conjure a bridge, thus cheating Death out of three souls he had been sure were his to claim.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco closes his eyes, and Artoria’s hand trails absentmindedly down the side of his face, before slipping back into his hair. “I conjured a bridge last night. Let’s hope Death doesn’t get mad at me.” Draco jokes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Let’s hope.” Astoria says, smiling, before continuing. “Death could not allow such a flagrant disregard for nature, and so he met the brothers where they stood, offering each a gift of their choosing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One brother asked for a way to bring back the dead, and he was given a stone. Another brother asked for a way to escape all eyes, even the eyes of Death himself. It is the eldest brother however, on which this story will focus. The eldest brother was given a wand more powerful than any wand had been, was, or ever will be.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Elder Wand. It is a myth. Draco doesn’t understand what use it would be to know any more then he already does about this wand. What more is there to tell, other than that it’s a legendary wand, that is just that: a legend. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This wand became known as the Elder wand, after the tree that bore it. However, this wand has a long, bloody, history, as all who possess it become drunk with the lust of power. It’s owners have quickly succumbed to madness and evil, for the wand grants one absolute magical power, and those with absolute power are always corrupted by the vile hunger they feel for more. And so, this wand has passed from wizard to wizard, leaving all with their minds rotted, and their bodies cold.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice.” mumbles Draco. Astoria gives him a nervous smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All but one who have held this wand have succumbed to it’s vile nature. That is why it is important to know, that the wand’s power is but an illusion. It will not make the owner invincible and it will not allow him to escape Death. The world has a way of restoring a balance, a natural order of things, and one who holds too much power will be dealt with, one way or another.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco frowns. “Is that it?” he asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One more line.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Draco asks, turning to look at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The prince would do well to remember that all legends have a root in truth.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0053"><h2>53. Daphne</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Daphne knows Theo has come for her. She hears the harsh knock on the door, which causes Pansy to jump slightly, throwing a worried look Ernie’s way. They had been sitting together, having breakfast after the trying night they had experienced. Daphne had been sipping tea, listening to Pansy tell her about her garden, when the knock ceases all conversation. </p><p>Daphne stands, and delicately smooths out her dress, checking her reflection in the mirror that hangs on the wall of the breakfast room. “Daphne. Don’t answer. Let Ernie go and we can sneak you—” </p><p>“No.” Daphne says, interrupting Pansy’s urgent whisper. Nott has come for her, and she will face him. It is her responsibility, and she will not let Ernie or Pansy face her husband’s wrath. Daphne leaves the room and walks down the hallway. She begins to feel fear course through her. She watches her feet traverse across the richly carpeted hallway. She has borrowed a pair of Pansy’s shoes, shrunk to fit her dainty feet. They are simple black, leather pumps. They have a very elegant shape to them, despite their simplicity. </p><p>When Daphne throws open the front door, she finds her husband standing there, as expected. What is not expected is his present company of Bellatrix Lestrange and her husband Rodolphus. That couldn't be good.</p><p>“Ah! Mrs. Nott. We were hoping we might find you here. Might we come in?” Bellatrix gives Daphne a wide, crazed smile. Daphne manages to return a pretty, graceful smile as she steps aside. Pansy rounds the corner, and when she sees who has arrived, she ducks out of sight, no doubt to tell Ernie that now was not the time to make his presence known. </p><p>She reappears a few moments later, smiling and beckoning the group into the parlor. “We were just having breakfast. Would anyone care for a cup of tea?” Pansy asks, voice sugary and sweet. “If you are hungry there is some food left over. I can—” </p><p>“No. That won’t be necessary. We don’t intend to stay long.” Roldolphus interrupted her. Pansy gives him an indulging smile and sits delicately on the edge of the sofa, bowing her head slightly in polite submission. </p><p>“Is there a reason for you calling on us this morning?” Pansy asks, giving a polite, subservient smile, that Daphne has rarely seen cross the features of her friend. </p><p>“Yes. Nott here stopped by our estate last night. He called his wife’s mental state into question and has asked that she be committed to the Reeducation Center for three months, to get refocused on the ideals that are important for the upkeep of our society, as well calm her mind. Nott has described to us that she may be experiencing hysteria. </p><p>Daphne watches as indignation crosses her friend's features. “Hysteria? That is quite the archaic diagnosis.” Pansy argues, politeness disappearing from her features. “Why, I cannot remember a time in recent history when a witch was diagnosed with that. Surely you don’t intend—” </p><p>“<em> Silencio. </em> ” Rodolphus says calmly flicking his wand in Pansy’s direction, giving her an amused smile as her words catch in her throat. “Last time I checked Mrs. <em> Macmillan </em>,” his voice dripping with disdain when he utters her last name, “you are no Healer. The experts at the center will be the judge of that.” </p><p>Theodore has not looked at Daphne once this entire time. He stares straight ahead, and refuses to catch her eye, as if he can’t bear to look at her. It occurs to Daphne that he may feel guilty. Perhaps she can get him to call off her admittance to the Reeducation Center. </p><p>“Theodore? Are you really sending me away?” she asks softly, forcing herself to sound small and forlorn. Daphne is a good actress. Perhaps, the best. She has gotten herself out of many tough spots with beauty and deception, and she feels confident she can get out of this one too. </p><p>“I love you, Theo. I don’t want to be parted from you. I ran because I was upset that you were angry with me. You know I hate it when I have displeased you.” Daphne is lying through her teeth, but no one is detecting it. Pansy’s eyebrows are raised, but she quickly blanks her expression. “Please, Theodore.” she whispers. </p><p>For just a moment, Daphne is sure she has won. Theo gives her a tortured look, and just for a moment, it looks like the old Theo,<em> her </em> Theo. The moment is fleeting. Theodore’s expression twists, as if he resents the way he reacts to her words. She is his weakness, and here is his opportunity to be rid of her. He gives her a sick smile. </p><p>“I know you do, Daphne. But after what happened with Astoria, you haven’t been the same. Some time in the Center will be good for you. It will heal you. When you come back, you will feel so much better.” Better, or docile? Daphne asks herself. She has lost. She may be going down, but she will go down with dignity. </p><p>“Very well. I quite agree. I think some rest and relaxation could be quite beneficial for my disposition.” Daphne says cooly. Theo gives her a suspicious glare, as though he isn’t quite sure why she has given up so easily. “I do, however, have an accusation to make, before I depart.” </p><p>Pansy, who had been giving her a look of disbelief at her quiet complacency, sits up straight, mouth dropping open. </p><p>“An accusation?” Bellatrix, who had been observing the scene with bored disinterest, perks up, excited. </p><p>“Yes. I am in service to the Dark Lord. There is nothing I wish to do more, nothing I would rather dedicate my thoughts and my life to. That is why, I can no longer remain silent. My only reservation is not speaking out sooner.” Daphne says calmly. Theodore gives her a nasty, threatening look, but she ignores him. </p><p>“Speak out, girl.” Bellatrix hisses, rushing forward to grip Daphne by the arms, giving her a hard shake. </p><p>“I accuse Theodore Nott of conspiring against the Dark Lord. He wishes to take his throne. I am sure of it.” There is an awful, heavy silence after Daphne’s words. </p><p>
  <span>“See? This is what I mean. Absolutely hysterical. She doesn’t know what she is talking about half the time!” Nott shouts, frantically. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You might want to take a look at his wedding ring.” is the only response Daphne gives to his claims. Bellatrix looks murderous and everyone feels her legilimency slam into their minds, with all the force of a great dragon. Daphne can feel the memories of last night flood through her, and though Theo’s occlumency is impressive, from the scream of rage, it appears Bellatrix breaks through. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bellatrix throws Daphne away from her, and whirls toward Nott. “My, my. Someone has been a very bad boy. A very bad boy.” she whispers. Theo tries to open his mouth, but Bellatrix cuts him off, screaming “How dare you? How dare you! How could you use that foul, low, magic to attempt to imitate our Lord’s immortality! A cheap mockery of the miraculous way our lord defies Death himself! You. Will. Suffer.” Bellatrix rages, before taking a deep breath, calming herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Must be careful in my current condition. Don’t want to get too excited.” she murmurs, reminding herself. Pansy looks as though she is trying to stifle a laugh.  “Rodolphus, please escort Mrs. Nott to the Center. She will be released in due time. I will escort Mr. Nott to our Lord, to answer for his actions.” Theodore tries to run, but Bellatrix hits him with a spell that makes his legs twist inward, shattering. She disarms him soon after. Without a word, she takes him by his hair, and apparates with a loud crack. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rodolphus looks entirely unphased by what has happened. He merely holds his arm out to Daphne, in a way that a gentleman would. Daphne wants to laugh, but she is too caught up in her own thoughts. What she just did is surreal to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pansy. Will you go to my estate and bring me some clothes and other personal items?” Daphne asks, her voice sounding far off and floaty, even to her own ears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy, still under the silencing charm, nods, standing to give Daphne a hug. Rodolphus releases the spell and Pansy grips Daphne tighter. “I’ll visit you. Everyday.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne nods, and grabs Rodolphus’s arm. With a crack, they too are gone. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0054"><h2>54. Astoria</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Astoria is watching the flames dance in the hearth, their light leaping and covering the small sitting room in a warm glow. Draco had fallen asleep around an hour ago, his head still resting on her thighs. Her hand still moves through his hair, though she hardly realizes she’s doing it. The only reason she notices, is when her hand stills, Draco groans in his sleep, as if complaining she has stopped. She rolls her eyes, only pretending to be annoyed. Astoria has always felt like an afterthought, and it is nice to be wanted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As late afternoon comes, and the sun begins to sink lower in the sky, she shakes Draco’s shoulder lightly. He awakes almost instantly, looking around rather frantically. Astoria has noticed that he is a light sleeper, and startled when he doesn't wake up naturally. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” he says sharply, one hand on his wand, and the other on her wrist, as if to apparate at a moment's notice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing! I’m sorry.” Astoria says, giving him a guilty smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright.” Draco assures, relaxing and throwing himself back over Astoria’s legs, shutting his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shouldn’t you be getting back? You’ve been gone quite awhile. I don’t want your family to get suspicious.” Astoria suggests. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eager to be rid of me?” Draco asks, opening one eye to look at her. Astoria shrugs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. You’ve grown tiresome.” She flashes him a teasing smile. Draco’s lip twitches in response, and Astoria says “No. I’m not. I wish you could stay. But, I don’t think it wise. When is the last time that you’ve been home? Your parents will begin to wonder where you are.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I doubt that, Greengrass. They hardly notice when I’m there. I don’t talk to them when I am, and as a general rule, they don’t talk to me.” Draco remarks scathingly. Astoria scowls at being reduced to last name status. She doesn’t mind it when he calls her it as a way of teasing her, but she doesn’t appreciate the causal dismissal when he is annoyed with her. Astoria knows she is treading on shaky ground. He hates to talk of his parents. She hadn’t meant to bring it up, but she didn’t want him to get into trouble on her account. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very well, Malfoy.” she says rather breezily, standing up and moving toward the kitchen. She glances over her shoulder to find Draco frowning at her. Two can play at this game. She catches her reflection in the window and gives a startled gasp. Her hair is a fright. Daphne would die right where she stood if she saw it in such a state. Astoria doesn’t have a hairbrush. Draco had brought her a toothbrush, but not a hairbrush. She cannot remember the last time she has brushed hair. Over a week, certainly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Draco asks, having stood up and followed her, likely still wanting to get a rise out of her. He must have noticed her gasp of horror. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My hair!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. It doesn’t look good.” Draco says dryly. Astoria shoots him a glare. She cannot believe she didn’t notice it. Granted, her hair had looked alright the past few days. She has always had rather smooth hair, and it doesn’t get tangled very easily. However, it seems the past few days have finally caught up with her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria grabs for her wand trying to remember the spells that Daphne had taught her. Draco grabs her wrist. “Don’t fix it. It looks good like that.” His other hand goes up to tug a lock. “It’s like sex hair.” Astoria gives a startled gasp and shoots him a glare. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re depraved.” she snaps, furiously raking her hands through her hair, trying to ease the tangles, and wincing as her fingers catch in the tangles. Draco laughs and reaches up to help her sort out her hair. She swats his hands away. “You’ve done quite enough, Malfoy.” she hisses. Draco rolls his eyes poking her in the ribs, as if just to watch her squirm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks toward the cellar door, the one Astoria has yet to open. “What’s down there?” he asks her. Astoria looks over, following his eyes to the cellar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. I’ve never opened it.” Astoria admits. Draco raises an eyebrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria flushes. “I was a little scared of opening it when I was here by myself.” she mumbles. Draco shakes his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Scared of monsters in the basement?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” Astoria says simply, before turning to the window to continue fixing her hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose I’ll have to check it out.” Draco says sarcastically. He walks over to the door and opens it. “Oh God!” he shouts, his voice quaking in fear. Astoria whips around, grabbing her wand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” she shrieks. He turns around, smirking at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry. Those stairs look steep.” He is barely containing his laughter now, and Astoria glares at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We shall see how steep those stairs are when I push you down them.” Draco doesn’t respond, and instead walks down the stairs. After a few moments, he comes back up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing but some alcohol and a cot. I think someone lived down there at one point, but I don’t know who.” Draco assures her, before getting himself a glass of water. Astoria shrugs and turns around. Draco grabs one of the bags they took with them on their journey to Ben Nevis and retreats into the cellar with it. He comes back up with the bag, throwing it back on the counter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you put down there?” Astoria asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The thing from the vault. Don’t go down there. It could be dangerous.” Draco warns. Astoria raises her eyebrows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you should take it to the manor.” she suggests. Draco shakes his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It will be fine down there. We slept in the same room with it last night. Just don’t touch it.” Astoria nods. “I mean it. I know you are curious. You’ll go sneaking down there the moment I leave, ready to figure out what it is. Sneak.” Draco says, his tone teasing, but his eyes serious. Astoria huffs. That had been exactly what she had been planning to do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, fine. I won’t go down there. I promise.” Astoria says reluctantly. Draco smirks at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good.” He comes to stand behind her, his chin resting on the top of her head. His arms brace against the counter as he looks out the window. A car passes and Astoria jumps, giving the machine a mistrustful look.  She can feel the rumble in his chest as he laughs at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you ever been in one? A car?” Astoria asks, voice stumbling slightly over the unfamiliar word. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. I’ve driven one.” Draco says. Astoria turns to look at him, and he laughs, seeing the look on her face. “It’s not dangerous or anything. Well, no more dangerous than a broom. It’s really easy, actually.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria considers this a moment, before saying “Show me how to drive one.” Draco gives her a sly grin. “No way. You’d crash and kill us.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You just said it was easy!” Astoria argues. Draco shakes his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Easy for me. I don’t know about you.” Draco lightly pokes her side again and she gives a small yelp. “You’re right, you know. I should go home soon.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria nods. “Yes. I often am right. You should listen to me more.” she adds sagely. Draco rolls his eyes. He grabs her hips, twisting her to face him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, listen. We have two stories left, so I think we need to try and make a break for it in two days. We will pack tomorrow night, and have everything ready to go.” Draco says, reaching his hand up to work out a tangle Astoria missed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And this thing, the deluminator, you really think it can help us find the Order?” Astoria asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. I’m going to try and deal with the thing downstairs before we go, but if I can’t find anything to destroy it we will just have to look for something on the way. We’re sitting ducks in this house. We’ve got to leave.” Draco sighs, resting his forehead against hers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. I’ll pack what we have. You should leave your clothes here. Going back in muggle clothes would be suspicious.” Astoria warns. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco smirks. “Trying to get me undressed?” Astoria turns red and narrows her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go upstairs and change.” Astoria says, placing her hands on his chest, giving him a shove. Draco doesn’t move, and Astoria wonders if she even moved him. He leans down and kisses her, slowly and gently and Astoria sighs into the kiss. He really is a very good kisser. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few moments, or honestly, it could have been longer, Astoria wasn’t really paying attention to the time, Draco breaks the kiss. “I’ve got to go. Really.” He grabs his crumpled clothes off the sitting room floor, and heads upstairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria crosses to the bookshelf and begins to read through the titles. It feels like she has done this a million times, but she is looking for books that might be useful. They are mostly on potions, with a few on the dark arts. She should ask Draco what he thinks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco returns, and if it wasn't for him grabbing her waist yet again, she wouldn’t have even noticed he was here. He always moved so quietly. He didn’t even make those awful stairs creak. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? The house is warded, so it should be difficult to get through. Make sure you have you wand on you. Don’t set it down somewhere.” Draco orders, his bossy  commanding tone back. Astoria is about to tell him off, but he’s kissing her again. It doesn’t last long, only a few seconds. He gives her a small smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he’s halfway out the door Astoria shouts “Bring me a brush.” Draco shakes his head, but tells her he will. When he’s gone, Astoria can’t help but get an awful feeling. She eyes the cellar door curiously. She can feel whatever is down there, calling to her. But, a promise is a promise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grips her wand tighter and heads upstairs. She would rather be as far away from that door as is possible in the small house. Whatever is down there has an energy about it, a bad one. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0055"><h2>55. Draco</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Draco walks through the gates of Malfoy Manor, it occurs to him that it may be his last night to do so. The thought does not fill him with a sense of nostalgia or any sort of bittersweet sadness he might have felt in his younger years. He is glad to be rid of this house of horrors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite what he said to Astoria earlier, he does believe he will miss his parents, especially his mother. His mother has sacrificed a lot to keep him safe, and he knows that him leaving, for good, will break her heart. His father, on the other hand, he will not miss. He will miss the father he thought he had, the father that had proved to be nothing but an illusion from the time he was sixteen.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In his room, he grabs a few things he had stuffed into his wardrobe for storage when had returned home, a tent and other camping supplies among them. He carefully writes a note to Daphne. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Daphne, </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I am leaving again, to study alchemy and resume my travels. I will be taking the peacock with me. The peacock doesn’t seem to like your husband. You know how those sorts of animals are, quite distrustful of strangers. I think the peacock may be onto something. I would advise you stay with the Macmillans for a while. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He leaves the letter unsigned. It is not the best letter, but he hopes it will do. Anyone reading it may think it a joke. At least, he hopes so. He ties the letter to the owls leg, and sends it off. He hears a soft knock on his door, and turns toward the sound. His mother. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come in.” he calls. She opens the door. He has not spoken to her since their fight at the breakfast table, and has not seen her since the night Bellatrix came to visit. She enters the room, seeing the supplies, and giving him a frown. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re leaving?” she asks, her voice breaking slightly. Draco doesn’t look at her. It will be too painful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. I’ve some alchemy properties I would like to research.” It sounds hollow, and fake, even to his own ears. His mother sits on the edge of his bed, hands folding neatly in her lap. He notices they are shaking slightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Well, can it not wait? You’ve only just returned, and I’ve hardly seen you. Where have you been?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pansy’s.” he replies, without thinking. His mother’s frown deepens. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco. She is married. You ought not to—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not like that. We are just friends.” Draco interrupts. Pansy will vouch for him, if his mother goes around asking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see.” There is a long moment of silence. Draco sinks into the armchair next to the bookcase and stares at his shoes. “Draco, I know you’ve been unwell. I wish that instead of running again, you would talk to me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine, mother.” he replies. He knows he won’t see her again, and he is filled with an urge to say something, but he cannot find the right words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco. I would appreciate candor. What is really going on? I am no fool. Whatever it is, I swear to help you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even if it contradicts the Dark Lord?” Draco says spitefully, turning to give his mother a cold glare. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My first loyalty is to my family, to you. I am not your father, Draco.” His mother stares at him, and he softens his gaze, but says nothing. His mother takes a deep breath and says “I think I may surprise you Draco.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I doubt that.” Draco scoffs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I may surprise you.” his mother replies. Draco frowns. “That night in the forbidden forest was no accident. I lied to the Dark Lord. I lied to save the Potter boy. I would do it again.” His mother stands up then, straight and tall. Draco’s eyes widen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mother.” he whispers. He has never seen his mother in this light. Perhaps he was never as alone as he thought. She places a hand on his arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco. I can help you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come with us.” he blurts. His mother raises an eyebrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Us?” Draco gorans at his mistake. His mother sighs. “Ah. I should have suspected as much. I was surprised when you said you were able to kill her.” Draco glares at the ground, ashamed at the weakness. He would never want to kill Astoria, but it bothers him sometimes, that he cannot. It somehow cheapens his choice to risk himself to save her. It makes it as though he really didn’t have a choice, he couldn't have killed her if he wanted to. “I am proud, Draco. Proud you are not a killer. Do not mistake my words as ones of disappointment.” Draco meets his mother’s eyes, and she is smiling at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mother. Come with us.” he pleads again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t leave your father, Draco.” His mother gives him a sad, forlorn smile. That is how it always is. His mother will never free herself from his father, no matter how much she wants to. She loves him, though Draco cannot imagine why. He nods, and stands up, embracing his mother. They are not a family who does physical affection, and the gesture surprises his mother, but she wraps her arms around him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to leave you.” he chokes out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You must. All sons must leave their mothers.” There is a long pause. “I will be alright, Draco.” Draco pulls back and nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe, one day. One day you won’t have to live like this. No one will. I’m going to try and stop it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Narcissa nods. “Would you listen if I begged you not to?” she whispers. Draco shakes his head and she laughs softly. “My, my. Unnecessary risk for the good of the world? You have changed.” She smiles at him, embracing him one last time. They do not say anything more. His mother kisses his cheek and walks out the door, giving him one last soft smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco sleeps very little that night. When he wakes after a fitful sleep, he showers, and finishes packing. He goes back to the outdoors store, and purchases other items that he thinks will be of use. With a clever extension charm, he is able to fit everything into one bag. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stops by the apothecary in Diagon Alley, and procures supplies to brew Astoira’s potions. She has plenty left, but she will run out eventually. He also manages to find a hair brush in Madame Malkins. He smirks at the thought. By the time he is done preparing, it is nearly five o’clock. He apparates to the front of his godfather’s house and enters. He doesn’t find Astoria on the couch, like he suspects. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She appears a few moments later, the stairs creaking as she comes down them, her hair wet. He takes the brush out of the bag and tosses it to her. She catches it, giving him a grin. “Thank you.” He nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She walks toward him and stands on her toes to kiss him shyly. He smiles at her hesitancy and pulls her closer. After a few moments, when they break apart, he says “My, my Astoria. You must have missed me. I’ve hardly got one foot in the door before you come running.” He gives her a sly, teasing smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her cheeks are stained red as she mumbles “Sorry.” He laughs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t say I minded.” he says, as he leans down to kiss her again. Astoria smiles against his lips. He pulls away and says “Did you pack?” Astoria nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Not that I have much to pack.” Draco laughs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright. If you tell me the story now, we can eat after, make sure everything is in order, and then get some sleep. Tomorrow morning, you can tell me the last one, and we will be off.” Draco says, his tone clipped and business like. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes sir.” Astoria says, giving him a mock salute. He rolls his eyes, reaching forward and pinching her cheek. She playful swats his hand away, and flops down onto the couch, not at all gracefully. Draco snorts and sits beside her. Astoria’s expression becomes dark, and Draco feels his stomach drop. It will not be a good one tonight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m waiting.” Draco says, forcing false playfulness into his voice. Astoria turns to look at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...I. Draco. I. Um.” Astoria stutters. Draco raises his eyebrows. “This one is a lot. I’m slightly worried, that, well, I don’t know. I just think that—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Relax. I can handle it.” Draco isn’t entirely sure that’s true, but he isn’t about to tell Astoria that. She nods and her fingers are running across his sweater. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like cashmere.” she whispers. Draco nods and wraps his arms around her pulling her to lay on top of him. He can feel her press her cheek into the material of his sweater and fingers go to brush the v-necked collar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco is an impatient sort, so he squeezes her shoulder. “Let’s get done. Then, we can forget about it, okay?” Astoria sighs softly and nods, her finger brushing against the skin at the bottom of his throat. “What’s it called?” Draco prods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great Power.” Astoria whispers. Draco frowns. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool.” he says, trying to get her to laugh. She gives him a fake smile, and it’s definitely out of pity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here we go.” Astoria sings, voice cracking. “The Prince should remember all that he has heard, for this story is not a long one, but it does require he keep the other stories in reference.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay. Will do. Draco closes his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Preceptor—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dumbledore?” Draco cuts her off, asking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. The Preceptor was a man of great moral fortitude, and because of this, he was able to resist the lure of power, and for this reason, Death’s great weapon, fell into his hands.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco sighs. The purpose of this story was to what? Tell him he had a hand in the death of a great man? He already knew that. Thanks, Snape. Death’s great weapon? What was that? A scythe? Astoria has paused, as if she can tell from the puzzled look on his face he is thinking it through. His eyes snap open in realization. The wand. The elder wand. Fuck. His grip tightens on Astoria. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, when the Prince came to the Preceptor that night, and he removed him of his weapon, the weapon’s power became that of the prince. The prince, while unknowingly, did the world a great service. For, when eventually the power fell into the hand of the Devourer, he could not wield it to its maximum potential. The world would be in a sorry state indeed, should the Devourer be able to fully master this power.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco is trembling. Ordinarily he might be embarrassed, but he is too distracted, too frantic to think about that right now. His mind is racing a million kilometers a minute, and he cannot focus, cannot think. He feels Astoria’s cool hands press on either side of his face. She is whispering something in his ear, but he can not hear it. She tilts his head to look at her. She has raised herself above him and she is staring down at him. Her eyes are dark and lovely as always, and they shine and dance before him. She is begging him to listen, with that look. She is telling him it is going to be fine. He takes a shuddering breath and swallows hard. “Continue.” is all he can manage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She moves her hands from his face and moves to sit up, as if to give him some space, but he doesn’t allow her to, his grip far too tight for her to get far. She settles back down against him and continues, in the softest, gentlest voice he has heard her use yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The prince must take the weapon, this great power. He must take what already belongs to him, from the clutches of the Devourer, before it is too late. For, should the prince perish, the Devourer will be able to use that weapon, and all hope will be lost. No knight, no prince, no Death, will stop him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco groans. “Look at me.” Astoria whispers. He does, his eyes moving rapidly around her face. This is awful. He wants to leave. He should. He should grab her and go. They can go to Moscow, America, anywhere. They can forget this. He can forget this. “Draco, please.” she pleads, pressing her lips against his lightly. “Look at me. Listen to me.” she murmurs against his mouth. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The prince may feel as if he is unequipped to handle such a great power. I will not lie to the prince, it will be a great temptation. It will be, perhaps, his greatest trial. However, I have every faith, every hope that the prince will be able to manage. For, who better to wield the greatest weapon in the world, then the boy who cannot kill.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco shakes his head. “I can’t.” His voice is strained and weak, raspy in it’s fear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, you can. I know you can. I have never believed anything more in my life, Draco.” Astoria is talking earnestly, and when Draco looks at her, he can tell she means it, with every fiber of her being. That makes it worse. So much worse. What about him, as a person, ever suggested that he would be right for this sort of task? Snape was mad, and Astoria is even madder, for believing him to be capable of this. She doesn’t know him at all. Perhaps he was too weak to kill, but would that fact remain the same once he tasted the wand’s power? And, he while may be too weak to kill, but he could cast the Imperius curse. He could cast the Cruciatus curse. He had done so. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Astoria, no. You’re wrong. I’m sorry, but you are. I wish you weren’t but—.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A loud crash shakes the house, and there is screaming and shouting outside. Draco jumps up, hand on his wand. Astoria grabs hers, and Draco yanks her behind him. The wards. It will take time to break through. But, they will do it. Somehow, some way, they have been found out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A glance out the window reveals his aunt, his uncle, and Rowle, though Rowle looks extremely beat up. Macnair and Avery are also there. Shit. “Draco.” whispers Astoria. She must be afraid, terrified. He holds her behind him, and brushes his thumb across her skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco. Look at me. You need to hide in the cellar.” she says, voice strong. He whirls around. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? No. You hide in the cellar!” Draco shouts, gripping her tightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco. You have to. We can’t apparate inside, because of the wards. We can’t step outside. The moment we do, they’ll kill us. They’ve surrounded the house. They don’t know we are both in here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. No, Astoria.” he says, shaking his head furiously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You hide, I’ll surrender. There is a chance, with some clever talking, I can get them to not kill me where I stand. They may take me to the Dark Lord. When they leave, you can go. Find the order. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” Draco is furious with her. He is torn between just throwing her down the cellar steps and locking her down there,  or making a break for it, and trying to lead the Death Eaters away from the house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You heard the story, Draco. If you die, he controls that wand. We can’t let that happen.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t let you die!” Draco argues back. The house groans and trembles. The wards won’t hold much longer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco! This is bigger than me! So much bigger. You are more important, what you have to do is more important.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco cannot believe what he is hearing. This is ridiculous. She is important. He can’t just throw her to them. He can’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco. What about your mother? What about Pansy and Daphne and everyone else? What about the girl, the one you are trying to find? Are you really going to let them die, let them rot, just because of me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco freezes. She is right. He doesn’t want to believe it, but she is right. He will have to understand that he isn’t a hero. Heroes always find a way to save everyone. Heroes get a happy ending. He can’t secure that. “Astoria.” he chokes out, reaching for her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, really. I’ve always known I was going to die young. I’ll be alright. Draco, I’ll be fine.” Draco grabs her, kissing her feverishly. He clutches her face in between his hands and he can feel her hot tears run over his fingers. The house shakes again, trembling down to it’s very foundation. She pulls back. “Draco.” she warns. He lets her go, even though every bone in his body is screaming at him not to. She presses her wand into his hand. “For what it’s worth, I think you may be the bravest person I know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, she walks toward the door, hands raised. Draco turns to the cellar and runs down the steps, locking the door behind him. He feels awful, sick, and terrible. He cannot do it. He will not do it. And, like the coward he is, like the coward he always knew he was, he sits in the dark, hearing the Death Eater’s leave, no doubt carting Astoria off to the Dark Lord to be slaughtered, tortured, or worse. Draco doubles over, and retches, until his stomach is empty and even after that, he keeps going, stomach clenching and clenching. It doesn’t matter. He is empty. He has never felt so empty in all his life. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I just wanted to add, that while the elder wand is technically Harry's, Snape did not know that. He believed Draco to be the current master of the elder wand. So, the wand technically isn't Draco's right now, but neither him or Astoria know that. I figured there might be some questions about that, so I just wanted to address it. I will elaborate in further chapters, but I wanted to go ahead and mention it. I don't want anyone to be confused or worried that I won't get to it! I love everyone's comments, and if there are any questions or thoughts, as always, I would love to hear them. Thank you :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0056"><h2>56. Bellatrix (12 Hours Earlier)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>She is furious. How dare he. How dare she. How dare he. She must collect herself. She must calm herself. She cannot allow herself to get upset. She doesn’t want to damage her. She knows it will be a she. She isn’t mad. She isn’t crazy. She knows. She always knows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That is what is so fantastic about legilimency! You know everything. No one can hide from you. She knows. She knows. She knows everything. That’s why, when she is standing in Macmillan’s nasty parlour, she knows everything. She finds out two very important things. Very important. Very infuriating. Very important. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first, is that naughty Nott has sinned. Oh yes. He has sinned. He has defied the Dark Lord. How dare he! How dare he imitate the Dark Lord’s miraculous triumph over Death, with a foul, cheap form of magic. Pureblood was spilled to make that nasty ring. How dare he! She can read books. She knows about Herpo the Foul. Nott is so stupid. How could he think that is where the root of the Dark Lord’s power lies? The Dark Lord told her he was born immortal. He would not lie to her. Not when they have become so close. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the girl. The pretty one. Mrs. Nott thought she was so clever, letting her into her mind. A fool! A fool! All the looks in the world can’t help you if you’ve got no brains. She saw that Mrs. Nott has been talking with her nephew. The little Greengrass is alive. Pity, pretty girl. Pity your sister will die anyway, while you rot away in your room at the Center.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And her nephew! That is what hurts! To be betrayed by your own blood! To be lied to! To be fooled! How could he do this? How could he embarrass her like this? After she assured the Dark Lord he had changed. All for some sick, weak, little girl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is no matter. Theodore Nott will be killed. Twice. His little ring will not save him. Not in the end. Daphne Nott will rot away. She will be reeducated, or she will die. It does not matter. Not in the end. Her nephew will be dealt with. Cissy will be sad. She doesn’t want Cissy to be sad. But, Cissy won’t be sad once she realizes what an awful son she has! She won’t be upset. Not in the end. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She will track the little Greengrass girl. She will find her. She won’t escape Death. Not in the end. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0057"><h2>57. Astoria</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Astoria hears the cellar door slam behind her, as she walks through the front door. She is so relieved that Draco listened to her. She had been so worried he wouldn’t, and that everything they had done thus far would be for nothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She will have to talk fast and be quick. They may kill her where she stands, and raid the house. She needs to somehow lure them away, convince them she is the only one there. She gave her wand to Draco, so there will be no defending herself. She needs these Death Eaters to trust her, and that means walking out, hands raised in surrender, and no hidden wand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She prays her occlumency will be enough to hide the secrets she knows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she steps outside the house with her hands raised, she shouts “Please! I surrender!” The Death Eaters stare at her, and she tries not to meet their eyes, especially Rowle’s. He looks horrible, as if he’s just been beaten quite severely. His injuries do not keep him from giving her a sickening smile, and her stomach twists. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It seems Greengrasses are like weeds. Incredibly hard to kill.” Bellatrix says, her voice high, shaking, and unstable. “But, you know what they say. If you want something done right, you ought to do it yourself.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria nods her head. “Very true. I ask though, that you wait a moment. I have a few things to tell you, things I wish brought to your attention.” Her hands are still raised and they tremble from holding them up for so long. She dare not lower them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very well.” Bellatrix says, arching an eyebrow. “I’ve learned when the Greengrass girls tell me something, it’s always worth knowing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria feels her heart drop. Daphne? Had she turned her in? Or, more likely, been somehow coerced into giving up her location? Astoria would rather Daphne turn her in then die herself. She would always rather that. She just hopes her sister is alright. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“First, I’d like to apologize. Again, my loyalty is to the Dark Lord, as I said during my trial. I feel horrible that I have dishonored him by continuing to live. I am cowardly, afraid to die. I hope to rectify that shortly.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bellatrix gives her a bright smile, wand still raised. “Excellent, Miss Greengrass. It is good to die with dignity.” Astoria returns an obliging smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Secondly, I have information for the Dark Lord. Something I must tell him directly. It is of vital importance.” Astoria says, false urgency etched on her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bellatrix smiles again, throwing her back, laughing. “What is it? Speak, girl! Speak!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will relay what I know to the Dark Lord only.” Astoria says, sounding far stronger than she feels. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bellatrix’s face twists in anger, a revolting expression of pure rage distorting what might be attractive features. “Whatever can be said to the Dark Lord can be said to me!” she screams. Astoria wants to laugh, oddly. Bellatrix reminds her of a child who feels left out of some adult conversation. A very mad, dangerous child, that is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. It cannot. My sincerest apologies, but I will say what I have to once and only once. It will be in front of the Dark Lord, or not at all.” Astoria says calmly, giving Bellatrix a sweet, apologetic smile, as if she was telling her they were out of licorice wands at Honeydukes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then you will die!” Bellatrix screams. Astoria is afraid, but she forces herself to keep talking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose the Dark Lord will never know. I wonder, how he would feel, knowing you deliberately deprived him of valuable information.” Astoria says, giving the group of Death Eaters a nonchalant shrug. They turn to each other in fear. Bellatrix stares her down, infuriated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where is my nephew?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not here. He brought me here a few days ago, left me with food. I haven’t seen him since then.” Astoria lies. The Death Eaters seem to buy it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bellatrix gives her a sick smile. “You will appear before the Dark Lord, since that is your wish.” Astoria wants to cheer, but keeps her polite, cool expression. She has bought herself time. It seems lately that garnering time is her greatest talent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her victory is short lived, however. Bellatrix croons “Crucio.” Astoria falls to her knees, willing herself not to scream. Draco might hear, and if he does, he may try to help her. She cannot have that. “Collect her, Rowle. Make yourself useful, and you may not meet the same sticky end as your friend.” Bellatrix says, apparating away as soon as the words leave her mouth. Astoria breathes deeply, grateful the pain is over. She knows there will be more to come. When Rowle hauls her up, her skin crawls, and she refuses to look at him. He apparates, and Astoria’s world spins, tilting. He is not nearly as good at apparition as Draco is, and the sudden, jerking motion makes her feel sick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They land outside of the Ministry of Magic, Rowle having to hold Astoria up, as her head was still spinning and she felt extremely lightheaded. He groans with the effort, which makes Astoria sniff. She wasn’t that heavy. There was no need to put on such a production. When he shifts her weight, she realizes that he is probably straining against his multiple injuries. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened to you, Rowle?” Astoria asks. He really does look terrible. His skin is a mixture of black, blue, purple, yellow, and green bruises. It makes him look as though someone tried to create an ugly, morbid painting, using his skin as a canvas. His lip is cut and bleeding, his right eye swollen, and with horror, Astoria realizes his left eye is gone. There is a gaping, bloody, black hole where it should be, and it makes her stomach turn. “Oh my! What happened?” she shrieks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rowle’s face morphs into an ugly sneer. “Did you tell them?” he chokes out, his voice raspy and strained, as though it is barely working. Astoria realizes it is probably tired from screaming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Rowle, I know you did a memory charm. It worked. I don’t know what I saw, and I can’t tell anyone what I don’t know.” Astoria defends. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damnit. Nott’s dead, you know. You should be happy. You never liked him.” Rowle roughly drags her through the doors of the bright red telephone box, her head painfully knocking against the window. Rowle is a big man, and he takes up too much space. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nott never liked me.” Astoria grumbles in return. “What do you mean he died? What happened?” she asks, rather frantically. What could have killed the Dark Lord’s new golden boy? Astoria is slightly nervous. The other Death Eaters haven’t shown up yet. Where were they? Bellatrix had gone on ahead, likely to inform the Dark Lord of her arrival. But Lestarange, Macnair, Avery? Had they gone back in the house? Would they check the cellar? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rowle picks up the telephone, dialing the numbers 62442. A cool, witches voice says, “Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name, the reason for your visit, and your blood status.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Er, Thornfinn Rowle, Death Eater, and Astoria Greengrass, prisoner. We are going to see the Dark Lord. Both pureblood.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mine’s purer.” Astoria sings, not entirely sure if that is true. She is just trying to distract Rowle. Perhaps if he gets angry enough, he will lose control, and she can escape. Two silver badges appeared, and Rowle grabbed one, roughly pinning it to her chest, taking more time than was necessary. Definitely more time. Astoria twists in his grip, causing her right breast to get poked by the pin. “Ouch.” she shouts. It hurt. It went pretty deep. Rowle gives her another twisted grin, as Astoria forces herself to remain still until the badge is firmly pinned to her top. It reads “Prisoner” in pretty, silvery script. It makes her want to laugh. The telephone box begins to lower itself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rowle. What happened? To Nott?” she asks. Rowle gives her an ugly glare. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your bitch of a sister couldn’t keep her damn mouth shut.” Astoria smirks. She is proud of her sister. Her smirk fades when Rowle knocks her upside the head. “She accused Nott of tryin’ to go against the Dark Lord, and so Bellatrix broke into his memories. Saw...saw what we did. He wasn’t happy about it. Nott was killed, of course. Twice.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How can you be killed twice?” she asks. Rowle gives her a shake, before rounding on her. It is a small lift, and she feels like it’s moving awfully slowly. “None of your business. I was sworn to secrecy, I was. The Dark Lord is letting me live. For now.” He is far too close to her and she doesn’t like the way he leers at her. She has to keep him distracted. She has to keep him talking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened to my sister? Is she alright?” she asks pressing herself against the wall of the box, as far as she can, wanting to put as much distance between herself and Rowle as possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rowle actually laughs, clearly amused. “She’s fine. Sitting in the Reeducation Center right now. Bellatrix broke into her mind too, you know. Nott accused Daphne of needin’ to be locked up. Turns out she had a nasty trick up her sleeve. Of course, I don’t think she counted on Bellatrix usin’ legilimency on her too. That’s how Bellatrix found out about you. About your little ploy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lift has landed and Rowle pushes her out the door, straight into the Atrium. It is night time, so all the employees have gone home. The Atrium is dark and empty. Astoria wishes it were full of people. It makes her feel scared and alone, with it this vacant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose you convinced Malfoy not to kill you. Can’t say it would be hard. That boy can’t kill anyone.” Rowle is pushing her forward, and Astoria lets her body go absolutely limp, refusing to help him get her to the Dark Lord. Rowle will have to drag her there. “How did you convince him? How did you keep him from killing you? Huh? You beg him? I would have liked to hear you beg.” Astoria kicks him. Hard. She is thrown forward and she lands on her face. Ouch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you beg the Dark Lord? I bet you did. You had to beg him to let you live. So, I wouldn’t be talking.” Astoria hisses. Rowle kicks her in the ribs, and she thanks Merlin, that while it is extremely painful, none break. Rowle hauls her up and forces her to keep walking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop talkin’, Greengrass. That’s all you do. Talk. Talk. Talk. You think you can talk your way out of anythin’. Let me assure you, you can’t.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All of sudden the lift creaks behind them, opening its doors. Astoria whips her head around, but there is no one there. Rowle turns and eyes the lift behind them. He squints, but the Atrium is too dark to see anything very clearly. “Damn Macnair. He can never work the lift.” he mutters, turning around and yanking Astoria forward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope it is Macnair. I always liked him. The best thing about Macnair, is that he listens to others, you know that? He would never do something reckless, or something stupid. Macnair is the best!” Astoria says, loudly and enthusiastically. It could be Macnair, but it could also be someone else. Someone who very much should not be at the Ministry right now. Like she said, she hopes it is Macnair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? You don’t even know Macnair!” Rowle says sullenly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes I do. He came round for dinner once.” Astoria says. Rowle shakes his head, ushering her forward. Astoria realizes that they are likely headed to old, Courtroom Ten, the one where she first received her sentence. Of course, instead of where the judge would sit, there would be a great throne, made of burned, blackened bone. Only one person’s opinion usually mattered, and it wasn’t the jury’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they reach the doors, Rowle takes his wand, blasting the door. It swings wildly open, but does not fall off its hinges. Astoria feels something brush past her, something like a hand skimming along her arm. The sensation is short lived and Astoria begins to wonder whether she imagined it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the throne sits the Dark Lord, his great snake twisted behind his legs, using them a shield. Astoria has only seen him once before, from a great distance at a victory festival. Now, she is less than twenty feet from the foot of his throne, as Rowle urges her forward. The Dark Lord is frightening, sickening, intriguing, and inspires so much fear in Astoria, that her throat closes up. She lets her fingers trace over the seam on her sleeve, continuing the stitches she can feel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bellatrix is sitting behind him, looking incredibly excited. It has been a good day for her. So many traitors exposed in one day. It must be exhilarating. Astoria’s eyes travel to the Dark Lord’s hand, as he absentmindedly taps his wand against the arm of his throne. His cold, gleaming red eyes rake over her and she tries to keep herself from shaking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wish to speak to me.” he says, voice high, cold, and altogether bone chilling. Astoria wrenches herself from Rowle, and forces herself to stand, straight and tall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” she says, fighting to sound confident, though her voice trembles slightly on the word. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And, what if I have no wish to hear you?” he asks, cold humor in his tone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It will be your loss.” Astoria says, coolly, clearly. This time, she is under control. Her voice will not shake. She does not know what she will say. She wracks her brain, desperately trying to come up with something to tell him, anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Dark Lord does not have eyebrows, but the skin where they would be crinkles, as if he is raising them. “I’m afraid I have no patience for your tone. Subservience was the order of the day. Not blasé, false confidence.” Astoria eyes Rowle, who has thrown himself on the ground, cowering. His face is pressed into the smooth stone floor. When she looks back at the Dark Lord, behind him, she can see something. It is the outline of a figure, though they are carefully disillusioned. A silhouette she knows well. He should not be here. Astoria knows what she will do. What she will have to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m afraid you are making a mistake, Lord.” she says, eyes moving to focus on the Dark Lord and Bellatrix. It is only them in the room. Only the five of them. She has to keep everyone focused on her. She can’t have them turn around. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Dark Lord does not make mistakes!” he shouts, moving to stand, pointing the wand at her. Astoria swallows hard. He pulls back the wand, ready to strike. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a story to tell you. If you kill me, you won’t get to hear it.” The Dark Lord freezes, eyeing her suspiciously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t be fooled by such petty tricks.” he says, but he is lowering his wand. Won’t be fooled indeed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is a tale of your destruction. What may come to pass if you are not careful. One of your followers came, bearing similar news, once. Because you knew of it, you were able to apprehend the Boy who Lived. I have come, to make sure you are aware, my Lord.” She has him. She has him, well and good. The Dark Lord will want to hear of this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very well. Hurry. I do not have all day.” he leans forward as he lowers himself back in his throne. Astoria nods her head. She has one story left to tell, and the person it is intended for, happens to be in this very room. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0058"><h2>58. Draco</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Draco sits against the wall of the cramped cellar, his head in his hands. He is shaking slightly, with adrenaline pumping through his veins. It makes his muscles feel tight and he doesn’ know whether to be sick again, or punch something. He goes for the latter, but regrets it, his hand stinging as it hits the stone wall. The pain is bracing, though. It allows him to think, and he makes a decision. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that decision, is fuck the wand and fuck the horcruxes. Snape should have damn well known better than to trust him, a selfish bastard, to do the right thing. Fuck the greater good. He doesn’t want this, and he doesn’t want any stupid task. There are sacrifices he just isn’t willing to make. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If she isn’t already dead out there, which she very well may be, then he can count on them to bring her to the Ministry. If what she said is true, that she would try to get them to take her to the Dark Lord to be killed, then she would be there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He may be able to grab her, and make a run for it. It’s possible. Definitely possible. It’s even more possible that they will both die, but that’s alright. Draco has spent the last four years trying to recover from the guilt of being a spineless shirk and he won’t be able to do it again. He will die tonight rather than live as a coward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grabs the stupid horcrux cup and heads upstairs, being careful and quiet. He slips it into the bag he was planning on taking tomorrow, and slings the bag over his shoulder. He squats down and creeps to the window, looking out. He can see three Death Eaters standing around, talking in hushed voices. His uncle, Macnair, and Avery are out there and they do not look happy. He doesn’t see Rowle, and he doesn’t see Bellatrix. Good. They have gone to the Dark Lord. Or, no perhaps not good. Astoria might be able to fool his mad aunt, but the most powerful dark wizard to ever live? Not probable. He has to get there soon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opens the door quickly, pointing his wand, shouting “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ventus Tria</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” A large, spiralling  jet of wind blows the three Death Eaters off their feet, each spiraling in opposite directions. Draco shoots three stunning spells in quick succession, and the Death Eaters are incapaciated before they even have time to react. Astoria must have convinced them he wasn’t there. Without the element of surprise, it may have been quite the long battle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Incarcerous</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” he cries, and is able to tie the Death Eaters together. He takes their wands for good measure, snapping them against his knee one by one, throwing the discarded pieces on the ground. He doesn’t want them following him, or telling anyone else they saw him. It will be a long walk for them tonight. If they manage to untie themselves without magic, that is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He apparates swiftly, arriving  in front of the bright, red, telephone box. His father had always flooed in, but when Draco had been with him, they had used the visitors entrance. He sees Rowle and Astoria are already there, and he grits his teeth. He starts forward, but the lift is already on it’s way down. Draco frowns. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He needs to sneak past them, unknown. If he is careful, it is possible that he will be able to disarm the Dark Lord and grab Astoria, getting them out of there and on the run. He will need to hide. He casts a disillusionment charm, twirling his wand around himself, wrapping him in the tendrils of concealing magic. He glances at himself in the window of the box, as the lift returns. He has done a masterful job, so masterful in fact, he looks invisible. Almost. You can see a faint outline of his silhouette, but he hopes no one will look at him close enough to tell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He steps into the lift, and dials the numbers on the keypad. “Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name, business, and blood status.” Well, did he lie? Tell the truth? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco Malfoy. I’m trying to rescue someone. I’m a pureblood.” He pauses. “Obviously.” The cool voice seems to hesitate, and Draco feels his heart race. He should have lied. Then a silver badge appears, bearing the words “Draco Malfoy: Rescue Mission.” Great. It seemed the ministry would let him in. The lift begins to travel downward, giving a great groan. When it hits the bottom, the doors open, and Draco slips out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rowle is standing over Astoria’s crumpled form, but he whirls around, giving the lift a suspicious look. Draco freezes. For an awful moment, he thinks Astoria is dead. She isn’t though, because she rolls over, eyeing the lift as well. Rowle shrugs it off as Macnair, but Astoria must suspect him. She, through a very transparent message, tries to tell him to go back. To leave. If it had been anyone other than Rowle, it would have sounded suspicious. Lucky for her and for him, Rowle is the dumbest Death Eater Draco knows, and that’s including his old friend Goyle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rowle is dragging Astoria along, and Draco follows. It would be easier to try and get her out now, when there is just one person to fight. But, they are rather far ahead, and he wants to try and get to the elder wand. He feels he at least has to try.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They enter the courtroom where Astoria was first sentenced. As he passes her, she looks very frightened. He can tell Rowle has hit her, and it makes him angry. He can’t act now, however, or they will both die. He runs his hand down her arm, quickly, before slipping past her. He wants her to know he is there, and that he didn’t leave her. He is going to try to get them out of this. She jumps slightly, but keeps her eyes focussed straight ahead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He walks up the stands, and passes the seat where he sat, watching Astoria’s trial, back when he didn’t even know her name. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slinks against the wall, behind the dark lord. His wand is clenched in his hand, and Astoria’s wand burns in his pocket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wish to speak to me.” The Dark Lord says. His voice still causes Draco’s heart to stop, even though it is far from the first time he has heard it. Astoria pulls away from Rowle, and she stands strong and confident, though he knows she must not feel it. He is proud of her. He would never be able to stand before this monster so boldly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” Her voice shakes slightly, and he wishes he could somehow get to her. Something in him tells him to wait, to bide his time. Draco knows he has always had good instincts. It is part of what has kept him alive so long, and he hopes it can keep Astoria alive too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And, what if I have no wish to hear you?” he asks Astoria, clearly mocking her.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It will be your loss.” Astoria says, eyes flashing with cold fire. Her voice trembles no more, and all traces of fear are gone. It is an impossible sight. He hopes she knows what she is going to say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Dark Lord looks far from pleased. “I’m afraid I have no patience for your tone. Subservience was the order of the day. Not blasé, false confidence.” Draco smirks as Rowle throws himself to the ground, posturing. Astoria’s eyes drift upward, catching sight of him. Her eyes widen slightly. Draco meets her gaze, though her’s seems to travel right through him. She steels herself, and gives him the most determined look he has ever seen, before looking once more at the Dark Lord. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m afraid you are making a mistake, Lord.” Draco feels his stomach clench in fear. He has his wand pointed. He is waiting for the right moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Dark Lord does not make mistakes!” the Dark Lord raises his wand, ready to fire some horrible spell her way. Draco has his own wand pointed, ready to disarm the thing he may fear most of all, at any given moment. He feels sick to his stomach at the thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a story to tell you. If you kill me, you won’t get to hear it.” Draco wants to laugh when he hears her words. They sound so familiar, and it makes his heart clench. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t be fooled by such petty tricks.” The Dark Lord hisses, but he does lower his wand. Draco keeps his raised. It will give him an advantage, if only slight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is a tale of your destruction. What may come to pass if you are not careful. One of your followers came, bearing similar news, once. Because you knew of it, you were able to apprehend the Boy who Lived. I have come, to make sure you are aware, my Lord.” Draco gasps softly. He doesn’t know whether it is true, or merely a ploy to get the Dark Lord’s attention. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Regardless, it must work, because the Dark Lord sits on his throne, and says, “Very well. Hurry. I do not have all day.”  Astoria’s eyes flick up to him, just for a moment, and she begins. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This story is called The Choice.” She says, giving the Dark Lord a small curtsy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What choice?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You must hear the story, my Lord.” Astoria reminds him with a smile. The Dark Lord frowns, but waves at her to continue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is a powerful being, thunderous, and calamitous. He is known as the Devourer, for he can do what no mere mortal can. He feasts on Death himself.” Astoria’s voice is steady and clear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Flattery won’t help you, in the end.” the Dark Lord admonishes, giving Astoria a cold smile. Astoria continues, as if she had not heard him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is also a Prince. This prince is no great hero. And he is no brave warrior. But, this is only what the Prince is, and not what he could be. The Prince is at a crossroads, and it is a difficult one.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Dark Lord leans forward with interest. “Who is this prince?” he asks. Astoria shrugs her shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In due time, my lord. I must finish the story. I shan’t go out of order.” Astoria throws back her shoulders, and keeps going. “The Prince has all the tools to defeat the Devourer. He only has to have the courage to access them, the courage to take what belongs to him, and the courage to destroy what must be destroyed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I grow tired of this story.” the Dark Lord says, and if Draco thought he could feel an emotion, he would say the Dark Lord sounds scared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Prince is afraid, but there comes a time, when all choices have to be made. The Prince has heard the stories. He knows now, what is right and what is true, as opposed to what is wrong and what is farce. The Prince may be afraid, but it is up to him, for by his hand the Devourer must perish. The Prince has no time for fear. He must make the choice. The choice to fight.” Astoria’s voice rings out, echoing off the walls of the empty courtroom. The Dark Lord gives her a nasty sneer. Draco knows he should act. The story is over and he should try and get the wand. But, he can’t. He fears once he holds it, his soul will be lost, drunk on the power. He does not trust his nature, the nature he knows is power-hungry. He realizes that it is not the Dark Lord he fears, but himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that it?” The Dark Lord asks, cold rage on his features. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of that story, yes. But I have something to add. See, I disagree with the author of that story. I’d like to provide my own insight. What I believe to be true.” Astoria is pleading now, her voice has become earnest, and it is clear to Draco she is no longer talking to the Dark Lord, but to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I believe that no bravery can exist without fear. Bravery in the absence of fear is not bravery at all. It is blind recklessness, caution abandoned. True bravery, the bravery that counts, is when one does what must be done,</span>
  <em>
    <span> in spite</span>
  </em>
  <span> of their fear. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That is bravery. That is courage.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Astoria looks at him, and tears are streaming down her face. The Dark Lord raises his wand, screeching in rage. Bellatrix, who has sat, enraptured by the scene before her, leaps to her feet. Rowle is still in his kneeling position on the floor, too terrified to move. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Avada Kedavra</span>
  </em>
  <span>” the Dark Lord shouts, in tangent with Draco’s cry of “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Expelliarmus!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” The wand leaps from the Dark Lord's hand, spinning backwards through the air, the green light bouncing off the ceiling, shooting towards Rowle instead. The Dark Lord pivots with alarming speed, but it is too late. The wand is hurtling toward Draco’s outstretched hand. He catches the wand, fingers wrapping around the hilt. The feeling is like no other. It is euphoric and it is elating. It is what he has wanted all his life. True, raw, overwhelming, desolating power. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0059"><h2>59. Harry</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Harry Potter is lying back, enjoying the night air on his face. The fire crackles and it casts a warm glow on Ginny’s face, who is sleeping next to him. Hermione is to his left, reading a thick book, flipping through the pages absentmindedly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry is twirling the hawthorne wand between his fingers. He is bored. There is a restless ache in his bones that has not left him since the Battle of Hogwarts. He knows he should try and get some rest, but he can’t sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To pass the time until he grows tired, Harry begins levitating sticks, leaves, and rocks, creating a mini- tornado, laughing to himself. If Ron wasn’t snoring next to Hermoine, he might have called for him to look at his creation. Hermione gives him an exasperated look, his display of magic interfering with the focus she wants to devote to her book.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What happens is sudden. He loses control of the wand. The stones, sticks, and leaves fly in all different directions. “Harry!” Hermione scolds. Ron sits up quickly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wha-” he blurts, looking around wildly. Harry would have laughed at the expression on his face were he not so shocked at what had just happened. Ginny elbows him, turning over and groaning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was that?” Hermione asks, giving him a worried look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I lost control of the wand.” he whispers. Hermione shakes her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously, Harry. We aren’t twelve anymore. You should have mastered basic spells by now.” Hermione says. They are tired and a little grumpy. They changed location today, which is always a hassle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry shakes his head. He tries to levitate a rock, and it rises in the air shakily. He can use the wand, but it fights him every step of the way. Hermione doesn’t understand. It’s not him, it’s the wand. It feels different. Something has changed in the last few seconds. Hermione raises her eyebrows. “Harry?” she asks, her voice shaking slightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The wand. It’s fighting me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. This wand isn’t mine anymore. It isn’t mine.” Harry says, shooting up, running a hand through his long, shaggy hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ron and Ginny are now staring at the altercation. Ginny stands up, placing a hand on his arm. Ron’s eyes widen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one disarmed you Harry.” Ron points out, clapping him nervously on the back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ron’s right, Harry. The only way that wand would stop working is if you’d been disarmed.” Ginny reminds him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione has said nothing. Her eyes are filling with horror, as she stares at Harry. “No. That’s not true. If someone disarmed another wand Harry owned, all wands he currently possesses would transfer their allegiance.” Hermione whispers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry doesn’t have two wands!” Ron argues, his lack of sleep catching up with his tone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not here, he doesn’t. He has one other.” Hermione whispers. Silence fills the camp. Others are starting to listen in, and Hermione ushers the four of them into the trees, eager for some privacy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Elder wand, Harry. If someone, somehow, someway, was able to garner it’s allegiance, your wand would stop working.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, fine. But, who? Who would disarm the Dark Lord?” Ron asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry shakes his head. “I don’t know. What I do know, is that now we’ve got some unknown wizard running around, who has full mastery of the most powerful wand to ever exist.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or witch.” Hermione adds, causing Ron to groan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t matter, Hermione. Either way, that can’t be good.” Ron says, running his hands over his face. “That’s the last thing we need.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At least the Dark Lord doesn’t have it anymore.” Ginny offers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry nods in acknowledgement. “I’m going to need a new wand.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>End of Part One</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0060"><h2>60. Part Two: Insurrection</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Part Two: Insurrection </p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0061"><h2>61. Daphne</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Roldolphus is tugging Daphne up the steps of the Reeducation Center, the same steps she had climbed just a few days ago. When they walk through the door, and into the clean, well-lit lobby, Marietta gives them a big smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mrs. Nott! Back again so soon? You left in such a hurry last time you were here! I was a little worried. I should have called but I…” She notices the grip Rodolphus has on Daphne’s arm and trails off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, Mrs. Edgecombe. Mrs. Nott is going to stay here for a couple months. I’m just here to fill out the paperwork necessary for her admittance, and then I’ll be off. My wife thinks she’s found something.” Rodolphus says, in a dry unaffected tone. As mad as his ‘wife’ was, Daphne had always thought Rodolphus to be the more sensible, moderated person of the two. Of course, that does nothing to detract from how horrible Rodolphus is. Truly, a beast. But, he is unlikely to kill her in a fit of crazed rage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Oh, of course! I’ll get the paperwork ready!” Marietta says, throwing a worried sympathetic smile towards Daphne, before darting behind the counter, shuffling through papers on the desk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Normally, Daphne might have been embarrassed, but it still feels as if she is in a dream. This doesn’t seem real. Daphne tilts her head to the side, curiously. Why does she feel so...numb? Maybe Theo was right. Maybe she has really lost it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, Mr. Lestrange, sir. Um...I just need the reason for admittance, so I can write it down, and you can sign here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hysteria. Likely caused by the recent death of both her sister and her father. She should be fine after a few months.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marietta shifted uncomfortably. “Oh. Well, Hysteria isn’t on the form. It’s not an actual disorder you see, and I can’t just—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rodolphus slams his fist on the desk, leaning across it, giving Marietta a threatening glare. “She has what I say she has. Write. It. Down.” His voice is calm, deadly soft, but if anything, that makes the situation all the more terrifying. Or, it would, if fear was an emotion Daphne could feel right now. Marietta gives her an apologetic look, but puts her quill to the parchment, writing the word “Hysteria” with shaking hands. Roldolphus snatches the form without a word, signs his name, and turns back to Daphne, offering his arm to her once again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne takes it, and gives Marietta a reassuring smile. Marietta always wears a lot of makeup, and if Daphne looks closely, she can still see the scars that spell out the word “SNEAK” on her forehead. Marietta looks onward nervously, as Rodolphus leads Daphne upstairs. She opens her mouth, as if to say something, but Daphne shakes her head. It simply isn’t worth it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rodolphus leads her to one of the couches in the Center’s sitting room, and pushes her down, not unkindly, into one of the seats. “A healer will be along shortly, to show you to your room. Daphne gives him a graceful nod, and smiles gently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you. May I inquire after my husband?” Daphne asks quietly. She cannot decide whether she wants him dead or not. If he’s dead, she is free. But, she cannot help but think of the boy she knew years ago, who was sweet and kind. She would never want him dead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My wife appeared displeased. I would not hold out hope, ma’am.” Rodolphus says flatly. “I would not worry. You're a pretty young woman, and there aren’t many of your blood status left who are so young. I’m sure you will be able to replace him.” Roldolphus’s tone is dry and he gives her a cold, emotionless smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne feels her smile falter. She had been hoping she could just remain unmarried. She is finally free, and she doesn’t want to give that up. It’s not as if she doesn’t</span>
  <em>
    <span> want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to fall in love, but marriages are hardly for love these days, and she doesn’t want to make the mistake of marrying some young Death Eater again, watching them turn darker and more twisted by the day. It appeared the need for pure-blooded children would far outweigh her desire to remain single. “I see. Thank you for your kind words.” Daphne says, with another polite dip of her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roldolphus gives a short bow, and says “Have a wonderful rest of your evening. If there is something you need, please do not hesitate to call upon me.”  He takes her hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it, before leaving her. Daphne shudders slightly. She had forgotten what it was like to be single. She hears a snort behind her, along with a hollow merciless laugh. Daphne turns her head, following the sound. Andromeda. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well well. What are you doing here?” Andromeda says, removing herself from her chair in the very far corner, that had been previously shrouded in shadows. Daphne swallows thickly. “So, you’ve arrived here, with a new admirer, it seems.” Andromeda continues, giving her look filled with cold, spiteful amusement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rodolphus is married.” Daphne whispers, standing up and going to the bookshelf, grabbing a book at random without bothering to look at the title. She returns to her place on the couch, flipping through the pages. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So is Bellatrix.” Andromeda returns, raising an eyebrow. Daphne feels her stomach roll. She tries to focus on the words on the page in front of her. She had never been much of a reader, other than the minimal amount she did in order to be able to fit into polite society. Reading has always been more of Astoria’s thing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did you get here?” Andromeda asks, crossing her arms, eyes narrowed in Daphne’s direction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Apparition.” Daphne responds dryly. Andromeda actually laughs at that, and Daphne’s eyes widen in surprise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I mean, what did you do to get sent here?” Andromeda says, crossing the room and sitting beside her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My husband was conspiring against the Dark Lord. We fought. He accused me of being mentally unwell. Bellatrix got angry, probably killed him. I’m here.” Daphne says nonchalantly, as if reciting a grocery list. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah. So you ratted your husband out for challenging the Dark Lord?” Andromeda asks, the bite back in her tone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When he sought to replace him, yes. I assure you his motives were not altruistic.” Daphne says coldly. She has endured this woman’s accusing stare long enough. There is a heavy silence in the room, and when Daphne scans her surroundings, she discovers that Andromeda and her are the only two in the sitting room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.” Andromeda says quietly. Daphne fights to keep her expression neutral, trying not to look stunned at the apology. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s quite alright, Mrs. Black.” Daphne says kindly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No problem, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mrs. Nott.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” she fires back, quickly, the bite in her tone having returned. Daphne stiffens.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My apologies, Mrs. Tonks.” she whispers, the name foriegn on her tongue, glancing nervously around the room, hoping no one would hear her. It was a peace offering, the only one she had to give. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andromeda seems to deflate. “Fine, Mrs. Greengrass.” Daphne finally meets her eyes, and she smiles slightly. She is still a Nott, even if her husband dies. But, she appreciates the gestures. “You could just call me Andromeda.” Daphne smiles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Andromeda.” Daphne says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A mediwitch enters the room carrying a clipboard, along with a stout, short, man who from his lime green robes, Daphne could tell was the healer. “Mrs. Nott?” he says, walking to her, giving her a smile. As if he didn’t know who she was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s correct. Whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with?” Daphne asks politely. Andromeda snorts and shakes her head. Daphne shoots her a glare, but there is little real malice in it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Healer Midgen, madam. At your service. I’m here to escort you to your room and we will conduct a short evaluation, go over a few rules, get you settled, and then if you have some concerns for us we will be happy to address them.” The man had a clipped, professional tone, but it was not unkind. Daphne had to remind herself that technically, in the laws of the world they lived in, she was superior to him. He might have healer robes and a clipboard, but Daphne learned long ago from Pansy, that if you act superior, people will begin to believe it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very well. Someone will be along shortly with my personal items. I assume that will be alright.” Daphne says, cooly, but not unpleasantly. Do not ask them if you can do something. Tell them it’s already been done. The Healer smiles obligingly, offering his arm to lead her to her room. She takes it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leads her up the stairs, past the library, the dining room, and the music room. When he gets to the top floor, he shows her to a room that is close to Andromedas. He opens the door and leads her inside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a large, feather bed, a plush armchair, a hearth, a bookshelf, and a richly embroidered rug. It is quite a nice room. All the rooms here are nice. It is a fine prison, but a prison nonetheless. Daphne sits on the edge of the bed and turns to Healer Midgen, who sits in the armchair, and holds out a hand. The mediwitch next to him gives him a quill, and he rests the tip against the parchment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, Mrs. Nott. I’m going to ask you a few questions, just about your life, how you are feeling, and some questions about your values and beliefs. Remember there are no wrong answers. We want to know how you truly feel. Whatever thoughts you may have, we can rectify them, realign them. There is no need to worry. We fix everyone. In the end.” Healer Midgen gives her a pleasant smile, and Daphne returns it. If he is really stupid enough to think she is going to give him any less than the perfect answers, he has another thing coming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. It is my greatest desire to return to society. I’m desperate to be reformed. You have no idea how much it saddens me to have to be sent here.” Daphne says, dotting the edge of her eyes with her sleeves. Healer Midgen gives her a sympathetic look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course! We are here to help you get there. There is no cause to be ashamed, madam.” Healer Midgen gives her a sweet smile. Daphne gives him her best, dazzling smile and his cheeks turn slightly pink. Oh yes. She will be out of here in no time.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0062"><h2>62. Astoria</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Astoria hits the ground, throwing herself away from the jet of green light barreling straight for her. However, the light is flying upwards, it’s aim thrown off by something. The light hits the ceiling, bouncing off and hitting Rowle’s form, still in it’s excessive bow. Rowle slumps over, dead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria turns her head forward, finding the Dark Lord, standing, his back to her, gazing furiously at Draco. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco. Whether he had come for her, or for the wand she doesn’t know, but either way, she is extremely happy to see him. Also a little infuriated that he had not listened to her. That he stood here, putting himself and everything they had worked for at risk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria expects Draco to move, but he is frozen, eyes wide, filled with hunger, staring at the wand in his hand. His expression is all wrong and Astoria feels her stomach drop. He had tried to tell her, tried to tell her he wasn’t ready for it. That he couldn’t handle it. Astoria hopes with everything in her that she is right, that he can, and Draco is merely suffering from a moment of selfishness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco!” she shouts, trying to get him to look at her. It does nothing. The Dark Lord screeches in anger, he turns to her, looking as though he wants to skin her alive. Oh god. He doesn’t have a wand, she has to remind herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bellatrix does, however. She looks torn between attacking her nephew, or attacking Astoria. She decides however, to move toward Astoria, her eyes alive with horrible furry, so entirely focused on her. No one has ever looked at Astoria like that, and it frightens her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco! My wand!” she tries, diving out of the way of another curse. Draco doesn’t even notice her, too enraptured by the wand to pay her any mind. Bellatrix, eyes glittering with malice, raises her wand, screaming a curse that Astoria has only read about. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Transmorgify!” Astoria is thrown backwards, stunned. At first, she feels nothing. Perhaps it doesn’t work. Then, the pain hits, and it is far worse then the cruciatus curse. It is then, Astoria realizes, there are fates worse than death. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her entire body feels as though it is twisting in on itself, morphing, turning, whirling. Her arm is wrenched out of it’s socket, pulled painfully behind her back. It’s moving, she realizes. Her body parts are moving. In all different directions, her body pulls her, changing shape and perverting itself into some awful, grotesque shape. Her clothes are ripping, and everything is distorting. She is screaming, screaming, screaming. She cannot breathe. Her limbs have rotated, and they are no longer where they should be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She loses consciousness, and she doesn’t fight it. Anything. She will do anything to not be here. She will do anything to make it stop. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0063"><h2>63. Draco</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Fifteen seconds. That is how long it takes him to reach Astoria. He had been staring at the wand, lost in its power. He vaguely heard someone call out to him, but he couldn’t tear himself away. A part of him wants to look away. He can feel that there is something he has forgotten. The wand’s grip on him is both suffocating and thrilling. It is only when he hears it, the most awful, tearing, shattering scream he has ever heard, that he snaps his head up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria lies on the stone floor ahead of them, and something, someone is pulling at her limbs, and they splay out in awkward positions that change jerkily. He runs as fast as he can, throwing a stunning spell at Bellatrix, sending her flying at least thirty feet. What was once a simple stunning spell had become a powerful blast of pure energy, but Draco has no time to comprehend this new power. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Dark Lord must have realized that this situation was not in his favor. He reaches for his great snake, arms curling around it protectively, shouting “Bellatrix! To me!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bellatrix pulls herself up on shaking feet, and apparates to the Dark Lord, grabbing him, before they disappear out of the courtroom together. The Dark Lord touches the mark on his forearm, and that is the last Draco sees of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reaches Astoria’s side, and grimaces when he sees her. It’s a ghastly sight. He has seen Bellatrix use this curse only once before. Astoria’s bones appear to have shifted and her limbs look stiff, spread in awkward directions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a countercurse. He knows there is, and he is wracking his brain. Bellatrix had used this before, on someone. She had healed them, only to do it all over again. Draco hadn’t been watching. He hadn’t been paying attention. He hadn’t been able to stomach the scene. Now, for the first time, he wishes he had paid attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He riffles through his brain, praying that some memory will come to him. There is a faint recollection of the spell, and while he isn’t sure it is correct, he knows that it was worth a try. This situation really couldn’t get any worse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Restituere figura</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he whispers. He isn’t sure if he made it up, simply combining the latin words for “restore” and “shape”, or if it is the actual spell. Regardless, it works, although due to the spell or the wand’s power, Draco doesn’t know. Astoria’s limbs shift, and she once more looks like herself. Draco breathes an audible sigh of relief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her clothes are in tatters, and the bruises remain, but at least everything is where it should be. He lifts her gently, summoning his bag to his side. He will have to apparate them quite a long way, and quickly too. The Dark Lord is no doubt trying desperately to procure a wand, and is calling his followers together. Draco can feel his mark burn, and he winces. Yes, he is calling them. They will be here soon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pictures a cabin that lies deep in the Khimki Forest, one he had stayed in while in Russia. Clutching her tightly to him, praying she doesn’t splich in her condition, he disappears with a crack. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They are outside the cabin and he carries her inside, laying her down on the bed. He sits by her side for hours, wallowing in his guilt. How could this have happened? He knew he shouldn’t have tried to get that wand. He had been so entranced by it, he had let this happen to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t even bring himself to touch her, worried he might somehow taint her. He simply stares at her, willing her to wake up. He slumps over, letting his forehead rest against the mattress. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The elder wand lies discarded in a corner, under a towel that Draco had thrown over it, so he wouldn’t have to look at it. If he looks at it, he’ll want to use it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he checks Astoria’s vital signs, all seems normal. Her pulse is steady and strong, and her chest rises and falls easily. So why? Why won’t she wake up? He is ready to give up, when a dry, cracking voice, rasps “Where am I?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He raises his head quickly, watching Astoria’s eyelids flutter. “Russia.” he answers. Astoria turns her head slowly in the direction of his voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco likes Russia.” she whispers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Astoria, it’s me.” he says. Astoria sits up slowly, but she keels over slightly, and Draco reaches his arm out, holding her steady. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. I’m sorry. I’m a little confused.” Her voice is scratchy, slurred, and groggy. “May I have some water?” she asks. Draco stands up quickly and returns with a glass, cupping her face gently so he can help her to drink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where is it?” It takes Draco a moment to realize she is referring to the wand. Her eyes are a little clearer now, and she looks more aware of her surroundings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Corner. Under the towel.” Draco murmurs, setting down the glass. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” Astoria asks, giving him a strange look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to see it. I don’t want to use it.” Draco says, voice breaking. “Astoria, I’m so sorry. I’m just...so sorry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Draco. No. It’s okay. I promise it’s okay.” Astoria says, moving to reach for him. Draco pulls back. Astoria sighs heavily. “Draco I would have never gotten out of there by myself. You came back and saved me! There is no way the both of us were going to be in a room with both the Dark Lord and Bellatrix without somehow getting cursed.” Her voice is low, and scratchy, but earnest. He looks at her, though he doesn’t want to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As soon as I heard you scream I went to you. I swear it, Astoria.” he says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. I believe you.” Astoria says. Draco tears his eyes away from her. She shouldn’t look at him like that. Like he was some sort of hero. It makes him sick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco. Do I...look normal? Is that why you can’t look at me?” Astoria whispers, her voice shaking. Draco snaps his eyes back to hers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I healed you. You look just as you did before.” Draco assures. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But...you saw. Saw me like that.” Astoria whispers. Draco nods. It had been horrific. There was no denying that. Astoria rises out of the bed, shakily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Astoria.” Draco warns, reaching for her. She knocks his hand away. She runs on shaky limbs to the washroom. Draco follows her, worried she might be sick. Astoria stands in front of the mirror, her eyes tracing over her form, studying herself closely. She breathes an audible sigh of relief. She frowns when she sees her clothes. She is not indecent, but they hang around her, flashing far more skin then she is likely comfortable with. Draco slips off his coat, placing it over her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get back in bed, okay?” he asks. Astoria nods, turning to the door, eyes cast downward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am I ruined?” she asks, voice trembling. Draco frowns as he takes her arm leading her back into the bedroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seeing me like that. Am I ruined for you?” Astoria pulls the coat tighter around herself. Draco shakes his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. No, Astoria. That’s not it at all.” Draco says with a groan.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then what is it?” Astoria asks softly. “I can tell something is wrong. You’ll hardly look at me.” Draco doesn’t answer. “Is it guilt or something? Because I already said—” Draco cuts her off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do I feel guilty? Yes. Do I know that it’s my fault? Yes. Do I wish I had done something different? Do I wish I had been able to fucking move? Yes.” Draco’s voice has gotten louder. He’s shouting. Astoria flinches slightly. Draco has to remember she hates it when people shout. He guides her the rest of the way without a word, pulling back the covers so she can crawl back in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria looks at him, and Draco sits back down, staring resolutely at the floor. He tries to ignore her staring, and he is hoping she will look somewhere else. She doesn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s rude to stare.” he says flatly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s rude to ignore someone.” she fires back. Draco sighs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.” he says. He is sorry. He is </span>
  <em>
    <span>so, so</span>
  </em>
  <span> sorry. Astoria gives him a sad look. Does she have any idea how awful he feels? Draco had not fooled himself into thinking he was some saint, but Astoria had been under some delusion that he could do what Snape asked, that he could withstand the pull of the wand. She had believed in him and he had failed. He is still the same failure and coward that he always has been, only now he has an unimaginable power that he knows he is not capable of handling, that he will grossly misuse.  He has already proven himself incapable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco looks at her now, her pretty, dark eyes filled with insecurity and uncertainty. That’s his fault too. She closes her eyes briefly, shutting him out. When she opens them, her eyes are burning with anger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think this is ridiculous.” she huffs, crossing her arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Draco asks, incredulously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You. I cannot </span>
  <em>
    <span>believe</span>
  </em>
  <span> you!” she seethes. Draco winces. He was right. She was angry. She just hadn’t know it yet. “I cannot believe that we, have escaped Bellatrix and the Dark Lord, with the wand to end all wands, both of us alive and well, and you have found something to mope about!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco opens his mouth to argue, but she cuts him off. “No. I cannot believe you are such a downer! I just got tortured, and the last thing I want to do is sit around and complain all day. What exactly are you feeling so upset about? That you stole the Dark Lord’s wand right out in front of him? That you saved my life? That you got us away? Got us our freedom? From where I’m standing, we should be celebrating!” Astoria is shouting. For someone who doesn’t like to be shouted at, she certainly doesn’t seem to mind shouting at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We just had a victory! I expected a celebration, not someone who is so sickened by me, they can’t even look at me!” she screams, her voice breaking at the end. She throws herself back into the pillows, and yanks the covers over her head. “I’m taking a nap.” she announces, her voice muffled by the fabric. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco is slightly stunned. There is some truth to what she is saying, though Draco can’t quite believe her words. He can’t revel in success. Not when he feels so terrible. The last thing he wanted was for her to be so upset. He can try to explain. He can try to at least pretend to be excited about what they’ve done. If only it can make her feel better.  He calls out to her. “Astoria.” She doesn’t answer. “I thought it was rude to ignore people.” he says, parroting her earlier phrase. She pokes her head out and gives him a glare. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” she snaps. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re right. I’m sorry. I just...I got scared. I was worried you were dead. Until about ten minutes ago, I was sure you weren’t going to wake up.” Astoria doesn’t say anything, but her gaze softens slightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Astoria, you know what happened as well as I do. You needed me to help you, and I didn’t. That cost us time. Valuable time. I could have prevented that curse. And you know it.” Draco finishes and moves from the chair to the edge of the bed, waiting for her to speak. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria sighs and sits up. “That wasn’t you. It was the wand.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Dumbledore had that wand for years. He never let it control him.” Draco aruges. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t know that. It could have taken him years to master it. Years to be able to wield it properly. You had five seconds. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Astoria says gently, her anger already dissipating. She places a hand on his arm. “Draco, we unintentionally hurt people we care about all the time. Sometimes the consequences are big, and sometimes the consequences are small. That’s part of being human. I don’t blame you. So, don’t blame yourself.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco nods. As much as he feels he deserves to hold onto his guilt longer, he can feel it lessen with her words. He has a tendency to abstain from forgiving himself, but he would have to do that later. When Astoria isn’t looking, he will have plenty of time to wrestle with his guilt. He turns his gaze back to her. Astoria’s hands are running along the sheets and she is biting her lip nervously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t sicken me.” he blurts, rather suddenly. It catches her off guard, and she jumps slightly and raises her eyes to his. “I’m sorry if I made you feel that way. I felt guilty, and I didn’t want to look at you because I felt like I hurt you. That’s it.” Draco once again, feels as if he didn’t say the right thing, and as always after trying to be open with her, he feels incredibly awkward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria leans forward and presses her lips to his, softly, and a little nervously. Draco reaches a hand to slip into her hair, tilting her head for better access. Her lips are soft and they move against his slowly. Usually, he kisses her, and Astoria’s kiss is almost experimental, as if she is trying on initiating. He moves his lips against hers, encouragingly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria pulls back and gives him a shy smile. Draco isn’t smiling, and it makes her own falter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You aren’t ruined.” he breathes. Astoria’s eyes widen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco leans back down, giving her a fierce, desperate kiss, trying to make up for the last few hours, for the last ten minutes, trying to tell her all the things he cannot say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria gasps and clutches him tightly, and Draco wonders if she is surprised by his sudden intensity. He makes to pull away, but her arms wrap around his neck, pulling him back toward her. Draco groans and pulls her closer, into his lap. Her fingers slip into his hair and he leans into her touch. He loves it when she strokes his hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shouldn’t be kissing her. Not when he has fucked up so badly. He pulls away, inhaling deeply. Astoria rests her head against his shoulder, her breaths labored. She lifts her head and stares at him. She is always trying to make eye contact. Part of Draco fears it and part of him relishes it. “I can’t believe you disarmed the Dark Lord.” Astoria breathes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco gives a small sigh. He knows what she means. After nearly half a decade of tyranny, even longer of living in constant fear, it seems incredible that such a powerful wizard has been defeated, even if it's only for a night. It is a reminder to Draco that while the Dark Lord is a powerful wizard, he is just a man, not some immortal, all powerful being. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen. You need to rest more. I don’t know if you've healed properly, so I think we will take today and tonight to monitor your condition. When you’ve rested, we can talk about what’s next.” Draco says, in a very matter-of-fact tone, that Astoria must find amusing from her expression. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good plan.” Astoria kisses his cheek and Draco gives her a weak smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to put some wards up. I don’t think anyone can track us here, but we want to be sure.” Astoria smooths down his hair, which is still mussed from earlier. “I’m going into the city later, to try and get you some clothes. Those aren’t going to work.” he says, gesturing to her tattered clothes. Astoria looks down, blushing as she realizes the state of her clothes. She pulls his coat tighter around her. Draco laughs at her embarrassed expression. “Relax. All the important things are covered.” He says it to reassure her, but it only makes her cheeks glow brighter, as she crawls off him, slipping under the covers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gets up and bends down, kissing her forehead lightly. He turns to leave. “Draco, aren’t you tired too?” she asks, apprehensively. He is. He is so tired. It has been over twenty-four hours since he slept. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A little. I’ll be fine.” he dismisses, heading for the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t leave!” she cries, panic filling her eyes. Draco stops. “I’m sorry. I just can’t be alone right now.” she says softly, making herself small. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” Draco says. As if he would tell her no. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay?” She looks surprised. Did she expect him to leave? He pictures himself turning toward the cellar, pictures him staring at the wand. Yeah. She probably did.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I do need to cast the wards. Come with me. It will take five minutes.” Draco assures. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. It’s okay. I can see you from the window. Just...come back.” she whispers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sure?” Astoria nods. “Okay. Five minutes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco leaves the small cabin, and casts wards, protective spells, and other enchantments. He can see Astoria’s face in the window, watching him cast the spells. He gives a sarcastic wave and she smiles, laughing a little. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gets back to the bedroom and she relaxes when she sees him. “I lied.” he says. Astoria gives him a worried look. He flops down on the bed next to her. “I’m extremely tired.” She giggles a little and Draco is glad to hear it. He pulls the covers over himself, and throws one arm around Astoria, burying his face into the pillows. Astoria pulls herself closer to him, fitting herself into his side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were brave.” she whispers, her head lying in the crook of his neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco feels his heart clench. He’s not. Not really. “You were braver.” he murmurs. Astoria says nothing, only pressing her lips to the side of his neck. He waits until her breaths slow, until he is sure she is asleep, before he lets tears fall, hot and wet down his face. He doesn’t want to sleep, but it claims him anyway, and he is far too tired to fight it. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0064"><h2>64. Pansy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Pansy is shaking slightly, staring at the spot where Daphne disappeared. The moment Rodolphus disaparates, Ernie bursts through the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright?” he asks, gripping her shoulders gently, turning her to face him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Yes, I’m fine. They took Daphne. They—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. I heard everything. I was right outside the door.” Ernie interrupted, running his hands down Pansy’s arms, trying to stop her trembling form. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy looks up at him, anger sparking in her eyes. “What? You aren’t supposed to be near any Death Eaters! Ever! I’m half-convinced they only let you live because they’ve forgotten about you! What if they would have seen you?” Pansy’s voice is shaking, which bothers her to no end. She needs to pull herself together. Nervous breakdowns will not help her friend. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you really think I would leave you alone in a room full of Death Eaters? Especially the most dangerous of them all?” Ernie scoffs. Pansy sighs. She has been to parties with them. As much as she doesn't want to admit it, these were her people. Why doesn’t he understand that? She is going to get him killed. She is going to get him killed, and it will be all her fault. Her eyes itch and when she goes to rub them she realizes she is crying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey. Let’s calm down, yeah?” Ernie says gently. “Daphne will be alright. She’s tougher than she makes herself out to be. She’s already charmed every guard, patient, and healer in that place. Mark my words.” Pansy nods, and for a moment, she allows Ernie to pull her against him, lets him wrap his arms around her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to go see Daphne.” she whispers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They don’t allow visitors on the first day. You know that. You’ll have to go tomorrow.” Ernie reminds her. As much as it bothers Pansy, he is right. “Relax, Pansy. That place isn’t so bad. I made it out okay.” Pansy gives him a sarcastic smile. “I’m serious. I met you.” he whispers, leaning down to kiss her. Pansy leans into it, hating herself. Ernie is deluded. He cannot possibly see her as a victory. She will disappoint him. She disappoints everyone. It is only a matter of time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not sure that’s such a good thing.” Pansy whispers, smiling sadly. Ernie wilts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are unhappy?” he asks, softly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. It is wonderful for me. And so very awful for you.” she whispers. She has never said anything like this to him, half fearing that he will agree, that he will leave her, and of course, wanting him to go. He could run. He could. He could find </span>
  <em>
    <span>them.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He had only needed her to escape the Center, and she had fulfilled that purpose. Why he stayed is a mystery to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pansy.” he breathes, leaning down, kissing her again. “How could you say that? When you know I love you?” Pansy drops her head and lets it fall on his chest. It is not the first time he has said it, but it always in equal parts both thrills her and terrifies her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pulls back from Ernie, and gives him a false smile. Her tears are gone, and she is done being vulnerable. She should have never been so in the first place, and she will spend the rest of the day punishing herself. “I’m going to the garden. I think I saw some weeds near my amaryllis’, and you know I hate that.”  Pansy leaves Ernie standing there. She can tell he is angry with her. Good. Perhaps he will hate her. She always felt more comfortable when people didn’t like her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stays outside for hours. She doesn’t come into lunch, though Ernie calls her. He won’t ever come into her garden unless she asks him. It’s her space, he always tells her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, when it is dark, and the time for dinner has long passed, she can hear Ernie’s footsteps. Pansy is behind some hedges, nearly twenty feet away from him. “Pansy. It’s late. You don’t need to be out here so late.” His tone is pleading. “If you want to stay that’s fine. I just…” his tone trails off and his voice cracks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stands up brushing dirt off herself. Punishing herself with isolation is no good if it hurts him too. That’s the last thing she wants. She walks to him and he gives her a small smile. “Thanks. I know you can take care of yourself, but I won’t be able to sleep if you're not—” Pansy presses her lips against his, with purpose. Ernie is slightly startled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you.” she whispers, softly. She can’t say it any louder. She can’t. Ernie doesn’t ask her to. He wraps his arms around her, pressing her to him. “Let’s go to bed.” she whispers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” They are walking inside, Ernie’s arm wrapped around her shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll have to shower. I’m a little dirty.” Ernie grins. He reaches over and runs his thumb across a spot of dirt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very dirty.” Pansy smirks at his response. She is ready to make a joke that will certainly turn Ernie’s cheeks pink, when there is a loud shout coming from inside her house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Macmillan! Where are you!” Pansy knows that voice. Rabastan Lestrange. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy stiffens. Ernie pulls her behind him. Pansy wrenches out of his grip, ignoring his cry of her to wait. “Come on, Ernie.” she barks behind her. She steps into the house, through the entrance that leads to the sun room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here! We were outside. I apologize for any sort of delay you have experienced.” Pansy shouts, running to the front entrance. She is covered in dirt and her hair is a bit of a mess. She desperately tries to smooth it down. Two Lestrange brothers in one day. What fresh hell is this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rabastan must have been trying to follow the sound of her voice, because he turns the corner unexpectedly, and Pansy nearly runs into him. Ernie is right behind her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is something the matter?” Pansy asks. Rabastan looks angry, frightened, and altogether demented. Ernie grabs her hand, pulling her back toward him. Not behind him, but next to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Talk. We need to talk.” Rabastan says, as though barely containing his anger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Of course. I was working in the garden. Would you allow me a few minutes to wash up while my husband gets us some tea?” Pansy asks, desperately trying to soothe the anger from the man’s face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rabastan nods. “Don’t you have a house-elf?” he barks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are in the processes of replacing ours. It was not performing satisfactorily.” Pansy lies, beckoning for Rabastan to come into the parlor that was down the hall. Ernie leads him, gesturing to a seat by the fire. He leaves and follows Pansy into the kitchen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pansy. Did something happen? Do you know something?” Ernie asks, getting a kettle and placing it on the stove. Pansy grabs a dish towel, wetting it and furiously scrubbing the dirt off her hands, arms and legs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was going to ask you the same!” Pansy hisses with worry. “You didn’t do anything, did you? You didn’t try to fight? If you did, that’s okay, Ernie. I understand, but you have to tell me so I can try and cover for you.” She is scrubbing her face so hard that  an angry red line has appeared, staining her cheeks. Ernie grabs the cloth from her, and wipes the remaining dirt off more gently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I’d tell you if I did. I swear.” Ernie assures. He taps his wand against her cheek, clearing the redness. “Go. I’ll be in with you before long.” He gently pushes Pansy toward the door and she goes, running her hands over her hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she steps into the parlor, Rabastan has vacated his seat, and is now pacing a line in front of the hearth. He has lit it with his wand, and the fire casts a horrid glow on his gaunt cheeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry to keep you waiting. My husband will be along with tea shortly.” Pansy says, sitting neatly on the sofa. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shouldn’t you be fetching the tea?” Rabastan sneers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I always mess it up.” Pansy lies, bowing her head in mock shame. Rabastan throws himself down into the chair again, with an annoyed huff. Ernie returns a few moments later, setting the tray down. No one touches it. Ernie sits beside Pansy, throwing his arm over the back of the couch, curling around her protectively. Pansy wants to lean into him, but she doesn’t dare show weakness. She shouldn’t even be allowing Ernie to touch her right now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How can we help you?” Pansy asks, gently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look. Something has happened. Something bad.” Rabastan whispered. Pansy’s eyes widen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Dark Lord lost his wand.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like...misplaced it?” Ernie asks, confusion on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rabastan shot from his seat. “No! The Dark Lord is an all-powerful, immortal, dark wizard! He did not misplace his wand! It was stolen!” Rabatan roared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How can you steal from someone who is all-powerful?” Ernie asks, in a false curious tone. Pansy elbows him. Hard. She hopes it bruises. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wouldn’t happen to be questioning the Dark Lord’s authority, would you?” Rabastan asks, leaning forward, tone dangerously low. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! No. Please, sir. We have complete loyalty, complete faith. My husband forgets himself. My father is one of the Dark Lord’s most loyal servants.  I swear to you, we would never dream of doing so.” Rabastan eyes Pansy and deflates slightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t let it happen again. You will show respect.” Rabastan spits, eyeing Ernie. Ernie, luckily, just as Pansy prayed he would, backs down. She lets her hand drift to his knee, giving it one light squeeze, before removing it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I must say, Mr. Lestrange. We are a little at a loss for what we can do to help.” Pansy says carefully. Who could have stolen the Dark Lord’s wand? I mean, who would dare? Who would be able to? No one Pansy knows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s sent every single Death Eater out looking. We have to recover the wand. He’ll kill us if we don’t!” Rabastan shouts fear creeping into his voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, we have no idea where the wand is, sir. This is the first we are hearing of it. If I may be so bold, why does the Dark Lord not purchase a new wand. Surely he has the funds?” Pansy asks. Ernie's hand is clutching her shoulder and it squeezes tighter at her words. Be careful, he is saying. Pansy wants to snort. He’s one to talk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. None of us know what is so special about...about this wand.” Rabastan says, bitterness creeping into his tone. He quickly recovers. “That is not for us to question, however. If the Dark Lord wants his wand back, his wand back he shall have.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I certainly agree. I will send all my thoughts and wishes your way.  However, beyond that, I fear there is nothing I can do.” Panys says, placatingly, but firm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was Draco Malfoy here? A few nights ago?” Rabastan asks. Pansy freezes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. We had dinner.” Ernie says, not even attempting to pretend otherwise. Although, a lie with a little truth always works better than a pure falsehood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did he say anything that sounded off to you? Anything at all?” Rabastan asks her, completely ignoring Ernie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. He was quiet. You know how he is. He is always quiet.” That is all Pansy says, fearing to say anymore. What had he done? </span>
  <em>
    <span>What had he done?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“He didn’t say anything? About questioning his loyalties? Where he might be headed? About the recent task he had been given?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Task?” Pansy asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Execution. Of Astoria Greengrass.” Rabastan grits out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. He said he killed her. He wasn’t thrilled about it, frankly. No one wants the murder of a young pure-blood lady. Least of all a proper gentleman. But, he did his duty.” That was the truth. Draco had told her himself. Astoria was dead. Ernie grits his teeth. Pansy knows that while he had only met Astoria a handful of times, he liked her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. No he fucking didn’t! He kept her alive!” Rabastan screams. Pansy flinches. Oh my. She should have known. Draco was no killer. He might like to act like one from time to time, but he certainly wasn’t. Ernie raises his eyebrows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry to disappoint you. He said nothing of note. We were old friends, you know. He came by to meet Ernie, to catch up. That is it. I am horrified to learn of his betrayal.” Pansy replies smoothly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rabastan shakes his head. “Very well.” He is heading toward the door, when Ernie calls after him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait! Who took the wand?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco Malfoy did. He’s a blood traitor now. If he comes back here, kill him on sight, and if you can not do that, call us. You know what the Dark Lord commands. Thou shalt not suffer a blood traitor to live.” Rabastan orders. With that, he sweeps out of the room. Pansy hears her front door slam. There is a heavy silence in the room, permeated with their disbelief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy cannot believe her ears. Draco? Her Draco? The same Draco who let a hippogriff scratch keep him out of commission for a month, had stolen the Dark Lord’s wand? Why? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow.” said Ernie. Pansy nods, unable to form words. After a few moments, Pansy swallows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can we go to bed? Please?” she whispers softly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. You were great, you know.” Ernie murmurs as he pulls her up off the sofa. He moves to walk ahead of her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great how?” she asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just forgot how well you handle them. How you always know what to say to get them to leave us alone. It’s brilliant really.” Ernie says as they climb the stairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s me. A snake charmer.” Pansy jokes, grimacing. It’s corny. She doesn’t handle compliments well. Especially from Ernie. “Better than you, for sure. Misplaced? What were you thinking?” Pansy says, exasperated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ernie opens the bedroom door, stepping aside to let her go inside. “I know. I just. I don’t know. They said lost. So I just assumed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Assumed what? The Dark Lord set it down somewhere. ‘Oh lets see. I had it when I was punishing an unruly Death Eater in the Atrium. But, when I was in the Department of Ministries, I noticed I didn’t have it!’ Pansy initiates in a high, hissing voice. Ernie gives her a look, clearly tired of being the object of Pansy’s teasing. Pansy gives him an impish grin, before heading into the washroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After her shower, when she is laying in bed next to Ernie, he rolls over, facing her. Oh no. Not another talk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you mean it?” he whispers. Pansy bites her lip nervously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mean what?” she says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That you love me.” he says. “You don’t have to say it back, if you don’t.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy sighs. “I love you. I mean it. I hate to say it though.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” Ernie says, moving closer to her. Why? Because the people she loves leave her. Because her parents, her friends, past lovers, they never said it to her, and she </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t say it.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Everytime she does, she feels like she is dooming Ernie to this horrible fate. It is not easy to love her, and she knows it. She doesn’t say any of this though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I may be a little fucked up. I told you that when you wanted to marry me.” she says. Ernie laughs, actually laughs, at that is when Pansy knows that he is a lunatic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do remember you saying that.” He pulls her next to him, burying his face in her damp hair. Pansy cannot stop herself from leaning toward him. “Do you not want me to tell you I love you?” Ernie asks, softly. Not at all. Pansy wants him to tell her everyday. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. At least, not often. Sparingly. Very sparingly.” she whispers instead. She expects Ernie to get angry, or at the very least become distant. Instead, he just laughs again, before rolling on top of her, and kissing her deeply.He pulls back, sliding one hand down to her chest, as the other begins to inch up her thigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose I’ll just have to show you instead.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0065"><h2>65. Astoria</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When she opens her eyes, a quick glance out the window tells her it’s nighttime. She doesn’t know exactly what time it is, but it is late. She turns to look at Draco, whose arm is still curled around her, holding her to him. He’s still asleep, which is strange, as he is nearly always the first one awake. </p><p>Astoria somehow thought he would look peaceful when he slept, but it isn't’t true. His jaw is still clenched, and the arm wrapped around her is taut. His brow is furrowed and every so often he would make a low, unhappy sound in the back of his throat. </p><p>She reaches out to touch his face, her fingers smoothing over his brow and his jaw. His face relaxes slightly under her touch and she smiles softly. She regrets touching him though, because she forgot what a light sleeper he is. He is awake before she can pull her hand away. She hadn’t meant to wake him. He definitely needed sleep. </p><p>His eyes open wide almost instantly.  It seems he needs no time at all before he is alert and whatever slight tension that has dissipated is back in full force. The only indication that he had ever been asleep is his voice, which is slightly raspy. </p><p>“Hey.” he says, sitting up, pulling his arm away. </p><p>“Sorry.” Astoria mumbles. </p><p>“I needed to be awake. I have things to do.” Draco cracks his neck and Astoria flinches at the sound. “How do you feel?” </p><p>In truth, Astoria’s entire body aches. She is incredibly sore, but otherwise she feels alright. “Great, actually. Whatever spell you did really worked.” Her tone is bright but Draco doesn’t seem to agree with her. He is giving her a skeptical look. </p><p>“Tch.” He reaches over, placing a finger under her chin, lifting her face so he could examine the bruise on her temple. He lifts her arm, moving it up and down. “Extend it.” Draco orders and Astoria stretches her arm as far as it will go. She fights to keep any sort of pained look off her face, and she succeeds. Astoria has been sick her whole life. She is no stranger to pain and she knows how to act as if she doesn’t feel it. “Raise it.” Astoria raises her arm high above her head. “Well, does it feel normal?” </p><p>“I think it might actually move better than before.” Astoria says, giving him a small grin. Draco actually smiles and it makes the lie worth it. </p><p>“How...um. How is everything else?” he asks stiffly. “Do you think the transmogrification affected...anything?” Ah. Her curse. </p><p>“My curse?” she deadpans, eyebrows raised. </p><p>“Yes. That.” </p><p>“You can talk about it. I won’t burst into tears or anything.”  Astoria teases. Draco shrugs. “No. The curse might cause me to take a little longer to recover, but I’m not dying anytime soon.” Astoria assures. A little of the tension in Draco’s shoulders is released, but not much. </p><p>“Okay. That’s good.” Draco supplies, a little awkwardly. </p><p>“I agree.” Astoria says, knocking her shoulder into his side playfully. He gives her a single hollow laugh. “Show me the thing.” </p><p>“What?” </p><p>“The thing from the vault. The Dark Lord will kill me anyway if he catches me now, so I think I’m safe.” Astoria insists, standing up. Draco stands with her, a hand on her back to steady her if she suddenly falls over. She has no difficulty standing or walking however, except for the soreness. </p><p>Draco crosses the room, lifting the bag off the floor. He riffles through it, his arm nearly disappearing into the opening, before he pulls out a shiny, golden cup, emblazoned with a badger. “Wow. Okay. I will admit this is not what I expected.” </p><p>“And what did you expect?” Draco asks, a bit of his old smirk creeping in. Astoria can do this. She can get him to let it go. She can get him back.</p><p>“I don’t know. Some all-powerful weapon. But, I suppose we already have one of those. Maybe a very large, expensive emerald. Not a cup. I’m pretty sure I’ve drank out of nicer goblets then that.” Astoria jokes. Draco smiles. </p><p>“Snob.” he accuses. </p><p>“I hope <em> you </em> aren’t calling <em> me </em> a snob.” Astoria quips. Draco does laugh this time. A real one. “So. What is it? Because if we went to all that trouble for something to drink out of, I’m going to be a little miffed.” </p><p>“A horcrux.” A sharp pain pricked in the back of her brain, but she managed to keep her face neutral. There is something about that word that her mind doesn’t like. </p><p>“Oh. And what is that?” Astoria asks. </p><p>“A fragment of the Dark Lord’s soul. It keeps him from dying. That’s why we have to destroy it.”</p><p>“It can’t see us, can it?” Astoria asks nervously. From Draco’s expression she can tell he hasn’t considered that. He drops back in the bag. </p><p>“I don’t know. Hope not.” Draco started pulling vials out, handing them to her one by one. Her potions. She lines them up on the windowsill before taking a small sip of each one. </p><p>“Thanks.” </p><p>“Don’t thank me.” Draco says, giving her a tense smile. It barely masks the pleading in his voice. Astoria sighs. Perhaps this would prove to be the real punishment of Bellatrix’s curse. The pain had come and gone, briefly. The tension, the distance, with seemingly no way for her to breach it, that is to her a far worse excruciation than the curse had ever been. </p><p> She has an idea that just might work. She swore she would never think of this moment again, but she will have to. </p><p>“Draco. I have to tell you a story.” Astoria whispers. Draco blanches. </p><p>“You said ten. We’ve done ten. Don’t tell me there are more.” Draco says tiredly. </p><p>“No! We <em> are </em> done. I have one to tell you about me.” Astoria assures. She grabs Draco’s arm, leading him to the chair in the corner of the bedroom. She pushes him down into the seat, and she lowers herself on top of him.</p><p>“Astoria!” he exclaims. </p><p>“Be quiet. Listen.” Astoria orders. Draco gives in instantly. Astoria would like to pretend that it was due to her assertiveness, but she knows Draco is feeling too guilty to fight her on much of anything. He swallows thickly and looks downwards. </p><p>“I had a friend once.” she whispers, cupping his face in her hands, gently lifting his gaze to hers. “Her name was Fiona Clarke and she was a half-blood in my year. A Ravenclaw.” Draco is staring at her, and though he is impossibly still and deathly quiet, she can see something flicker in his eyes. She has not thought about Fiona in years, has not let herself think about her. </p><p>“Fiona and I used to sneak into the library late at night. We would listen to Potter-watch and read the Quibbler. I suppose we fancied ourselves little rebels. It was during my fifth year, and neither of us felt welcome in the D.A, nor did we want the risk. We felt safer just the two of us. But, it didn’t last long.” Draco eyes flash with anger, likely at her recklessness. She swipes her thumbs across his cheekbones. They are so sharp that Astoria wonders that they do not cut her. </p><p>“Alecto caught us. She told me that I better watch myself, and that I was headed for trouble. She told me that if I told her it was all Fiona’s fault, I wouldn’t be tortured.” Draco inhales sharply. </p><p>“Astoria. You don’t have to—” Draco tries. </p><p>“Quiet. Yes. Yes I do.” Astoria interrupts him. She has to tell him. He has to understand. </p><p>“I was scared, Draco. I was so scared. I had never felt the cruciatus curse before, but I heard it was awful. Students would not be able to walk for a week after a session with Alecto, and I was so frightened. So, I told her, right in front of Fiona, that Fiona was all to blame.” Draco slides his hands up her back and Astoria realizes that he is now having to hold her upright. </p><p>“Alecto told me I had to watch. And so I did. I sat there the whole hour and watched. I didn’t say or do a thing, I just sat there crying, closing my eyes when Alecto wasn’t looking at me. After, Fiona wouldn’t even look at me for a whole week. And when she finally did, I could tell she hated me.” Astoria wants to cry, to disappear, or maybe to float away. She forces herself to stay present. Draco shakes his head. </p><p>“Astoria, you were fifteen. You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. It’s over and..” Astoria is looking at Draco with a pointed expression, and he falls silent. </p><p>“Exactly. It is over. But, I made a mistake, a horrible one. One I personally think far worse than yours, but that’s semantics really. My point is that I have spent every moment of my life since then, promising that I would never do <em> nothing </em> again. You can learn from this mistake too.” </p><p>“Astoria—” </p><p>“No. I’m not finished. It’s a war, Draco. We are fighting in it. In war, <em> no one’s </em> hands are clean, and <em> no one </em> walks away unscathed. That’s the truth. We are going to be forced into impossible situations and we are going to make mistakes, because we aren't’ perfect. That’s what I want you to realize. Is that <em> we </em> aren’t perfect. Not just you. <em> We. </em>” </p><p>She cannot do this without him, and if this will get him to stop looking at her as some clean, pure, untouchable thing, so be it. He needs to see her for what she is, his equal, and not some paragon of virtue. </p><p>Draco stares at her for a long time. Astoria leans down to kiss him, pressing her lips to his, softly. “Please.” She whispers against his lips. “If you can’t be forgiven, how can I?” she murmurs, voice shaking, tears threatening to spill over. </p><p>Draco grabs the collar of the coat, yanking her down to his lips. Her hair falls over his face and Astoria moves to push it back, but Draco catches her hands. “Don’t.” he orders, before slamming his lips onto hers again. Astoria gently pulls her hands out of his grasp, and runs them through the hair close to the nape of his neck. Draco groans as she feels the strands, soft and silky beneath her fingers. There was a rush of sensations that Astoria found enticing and a little frightening. </p><p>She needs this. She needs him. She presses herself further into him, wishing she could drown in him, wishing he would kiss her deeper, more. If that was even possible. </p><p>She pulls back, to whisper in his ear. “I’m no longer your prisoner.” Draco’s eyes become dark and cloudy, and Astoria wonders a moment whether she has said something wrong, but Draco lifts her off him, as if she weren’t any lighter than a feather, before standing up and grabbing her hips, pulling her toward him. He kisses her again, searing, burning, and Astoria melts into him. </p><p>“No. You aren’t.” he says, soft and low, before kissing her again, fiercely. </p><p>Astoria steps back, and then takes another step back, pulling Draco with her. He follows her willingly, and when the back of her knees bump against the bed, Astoria pulls away, her hands fisting in his shirt. </p><p>“Please. Please, Draco.” she gasps, not sure if she is asking right, and blushing at how desperate and breathless she sounds. Draco doesn’t seem to mind, because he slowly pushes her down onto the bed, and hovers over her, lips moving against hers once again. He breaks the kiss, letting his lips trail to her neck as she gasps his name again. </p><p>Her hands tug on his shirt, and Draco sits up, pulling it over his head roughly, tossing it aside. Astoria touches his chest, and Draco whispers her name. It sounds so pretty when he says it. Astoria pulls him on top of her. </p><p>“Do you want to?” he whispers into her ear, sending shivers racing down her spine. </p><p>“Yes.” she breathes. She has never wanted anything more.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0066"><h2>66. Daphne</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Important: While checking over some things, I noticed that I only had posted half of chapter 53. I guess when I pasted it, the second half didn't make it! I am so sorry, and if you are slightly confused, that might be why. I don't think it made that much of a difference, but I have corrected it if anyone would like to go read the rest of chapter 53. Thank you.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Healer Midgen had left a while ago, all encouraging smiles and assurances that she would be released quite soon. “A momentary lapse, it seems Mrs. Nott. Don’t worry a thing about it!” he had said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne was observing her room, although there wasn’t much to it. She opened the wardrobe and sniffed distastefully. The clothes were nice, but very plain. The colors wouldn't flatter her at all. That is, of course, when the tears start to fall. It’s embarrassing, really. If Pansy knew that an ugly set of robes had sent her over the edge she’d probably throttle her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It isn’t just the clothes. It’s the entire awful day. Daphne had a horrible night last night, that has turned into a horrible day, which is quickly turning into another horrible night. She killed her husband. Maybe, not directly, but she had killed him. She sinks to the floor, burying her face in her hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And her mother! Her mother would have an absolute fit when she heard Daphne had been admitted. Who was going to look after her mother? Who was going to make sure Draco was still looking after Astoria? She would just have to fess up to Pansy that Astoria was alive. Draco would listen to Pansy. He nearly always did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a soft knock at her door. “Hey, Daphne?” It’s Andromeda. Merlin’s pants! What did she want? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” Daphne calls out, hoping her voice doesn’t reveal she’s been crying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to play chess?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne wants to laugh. She is horrible at chess. Astoria always throttles her. But, yes. Yes she would like to play. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. But I want to be the white pieces. I don’t like the black sets. They always argue with me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andromeda also beats her at chess. Several times. They are in the middle of another heated round, and Daphne is thinking that this might be her win, when there is the sound of angry footsteps pounding up the steps. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andromeda looks up at her, giving her a tense look. Daphne turns to look at who is making such a ruckus, when Rodolphus bangs through the entrance. His eyes scan the room, before they find Daphne. He stalks toward her. Andromeda stands, stepping in front of her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rodolphus.” she greets, coolly. Rodolphus gives her an annoyed glare. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mrs. Black. Please step aside. I require a word with Mrs. Nott.” Daphne stands, ducking around Andromeda. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine, Andromeda. I’ll see you in a few minutes.” Andromeda looks like she wants to argue, but Daphne says “I want a rematch. I’m not letting you win again.” Andromeda gives her a dry smile, as Rodolphus drags her away by her arm, up the stairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Show me to your room, Mrs. Nott.” Daphne nods, and indicates which one is hers, when they reach it. Rodolphus shoves her inside, and Daphne’s stomach turns. She doesn’t want to be in here alone with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“May I help you?” she asks, in a worried tone. Rodolphus sinks into the chair and nods his head toward the bed. Daphne takes a seat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You knew your sister was alive. Didn’t you.” Every muscle in Daphne’s body tenses. No. How? How do they know? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My sister is dead.” Daphne whispers. Rodolphus shakes his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daphne. May I call you Daphne?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. “Yes. Of course.” Daphne gives him a tight, thin smile. Her head is spinning. Did they find her? Did they only suspect her of being alive?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daphne. Let us agree not to lie to each other, yes? I assure you, that I have seen many beautiful women, though not many as half as tempting as you, and I have listened to many charming speakers. You will not fool me as you fool everyone else.” Roldolphus reminds her of a coiled cobra. He is angry, she can tell. It simmers deep within him. He may not be striking yet, but that is because he is coiling back, getting ready. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. I won’t lie.” Daphne whispers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good girl. Now. You’ll notice that I didn’t ask you a question. I didn’t ask you </span>
  <em>
    <span>if</span>
  </em>
  <span> you knew your sister was alive. I told you that you did. That is a fact, one we already know. You told us that yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never said anything. I—” Rodolphus holds up a hand, and Daphne falls quiet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Daphne. I don’t think I knew quite how naïve you were. Did you really think you could invite Bellatrix into your head, and that you could control what she saw? I must say, that it was a valiant attempt, incriminating your husband. It was brilliant, even. You just didn’t intend to reveal that your sister was alive, did you.” His voice is soft and honeyed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne cannot breathe. Oh no. How could she? She had been so stupid, so desperate to save her own skin, she hadn’t considered that. They killed her. Astoria really was dead now. Daphne falls to the ground, shaking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rodolphus stands and walks toward her. He crouches down, until they are eye level. He grabs her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daphne. Oh, Daphne. You’ve made a very bad mistake. Do you know what your baby sister has done?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Astoria’s dead. You all killed her the moment you found out she was alive!” Daphne spits, trying to wrench from his grasp. Rodolphus gives her a cold, amused smirk. He lets go of her chin and wraps his fingers in her hair, pulling hard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Daphne. We didn’t. Your friend Draco Malfoy and your sweet, little, sister got away. And, do you know what they took with them?” Daphne wants to sob in relief. Astoria is okay. Oh, thank heavens. Rodolphus doesn't allow her much time to celebrate. He gives her hair another hard, tug. “Do you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I don’t. If she saw my memories, then she knows that all I knew was that my sister was alive! That’s it, I swear it!” Daphne shouts, wincing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shh. Shh.” Rodolphus has released her hair, and is now smoothing over the abused locks with his hand. That is almost worse. Daphne wants to throw up. “I could help you, Daphne. I just ask one thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Daphne whispers, scooting back. Rodolphus’s hand drops to his side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Live with me. I could help your mother. I may be able to save your sister.” Daphne stands up and walks toward the small window. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She will not say yes. She is done. She will never again be with a Death Eater to save herself, to save anyone. “No.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rodolphus does not get angry. He does not hex, or curse her. He simply rises to his feet and laughs. “Very well. If you will not allow me to help you, then you will help us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I already told you I don’t know anything.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. You don’t. Draco has something, darling. Draco has something that we want back. And, we need him to bring us back what he took.” Rodolphus stands behind her, skimming his hand down her spine. Daphne lurches away, whirling to face him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He won’t come for me. We aren’t really that good of friends.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. But, she will. Your sister will. Right? She is a little braver than you. I don’t think she would let you die. And if she comes, he will follow her. We learned that tonight.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said she is gone right? How are you even going to get word to her?” Daphne is desperately trying to convince him it’s a bad idea. She truthfully doesn’t know if Astoria would come. She hopes with everything in her that Rodolphus is wrong. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, we know. We plan to set the date of your execution well in advance. We will give them time to notice. It may be a few months before they hear of it, it may be a few weeks. We don’t care when they come. Just that they do.” Daphne gives a choked sob.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t cry, Daphne. It may never come to that. We have every, single, Death Eater combing the world for them. Whether we find them, or they find us, it does not matter. They will meet their maker.” Rodolphus turns, and exits the room, slamming the door behind him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne has never felt so useless, and so wretched in all her life. What a complete and utter fool she is. She sinks to the floor crying. She is vaguely aware, a few moments later, that Andromeda has come in. The older woman might be trying to tell her something, but Daphne is crying too hard to notice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andromeda wraps her arms around her and Daphne clings to her. Her whole, pretty world has fallen apart, in a matter of hours. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0067"><h2>67. Draco</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Draco needs to get out of bed. The sun is beginning to creep up, and he can see the weak sunlight shining through the glass of the window. Astoria is curled into his side, her legs tangled between his. His hand moves through her thick, dark locks, pulling at her tresses, marveling at the feel of them between his fingers, as he remembers it brushing his face as he planted soft kisses down the curve of her neck, and tugging it to bring her lips to his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His other hand is skimming across her skin, soft and smooth, and he hears her give a quiet, dreamy, sigh. He looks over at her, meeting her dark, lurid eyes. Pink dusts across her cheeks and she looks down, shyly. A smirk tugs at his lips as he leans over to kiss her. He pulls away a few moments later. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long are we staying here?” Astoria murmurs, breath hitching slightly when his hand dips into the curve of her hip, pulling her closer to his side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to leave today. I was really only planning on staying here until you felt better, had some mobility. Obviously your limbs work just fine.” Draco says, tone becoming teasing. Astoria buries her face in his shoulder, to obscure him from seeing her flush at his words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are we still going to a town or city? I’ll need clothes.” Astoria whispers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm. I don’t know. I think I prefer when you don’t wear clothes.” Astoria gasps, hitting him lightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve become far too bold.” Astoria grumbles, but he can tell she is trying not to smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got a couple spare sets of clothes in the bag. I can shrink the shirt and pants to fit you. Or we could get new ones. I was going to leave it up to you.” Draco says, his tone coated in mock relenting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s just shrink them. We should stay hidden. If it’s possible. If we have to go into the city, we don’t need to be making stops.” Astoria says. “I’m also hungry. So can we eat?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco laughs. “Yes. We can.” He slowly disentangles himself from Astoria, lamenting the loss of her bare skin pressing against his. He shrugs on his clothes, and heads to the bag. It has undergone several extension charms, and he was pretty sure he could fit in there if he really wanted. Astoria definitely could. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulls out a pair of jeans and a warm jumper. He carefully shrinks the jeans, picturing the shape and length of her legs, the legs he has recently become quite well acquainted with. “Try these.” He tosses them her way, and she catches them, pulling them on quickly. They fit well around her hips, but they are a little loose around her legs. “Do you want them tighter?” Draco asks, tugging the pant leg. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. They’re fine. Thank you.” She doesn’t bother letting him shrink the jumper, and she pulls it over her head. It’s pretty large on her, but she doesn't seem to mind. “My shoes?” she asks, Draco gestures to the foot of the bed. While Astoria is tugging her boots on, he tosses her her wand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Granola bar?” Draco asks, holding up a few of the bars. Astoria tilts her head, examining the small colored packet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Are they good?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think so.” Draco tosses her two of the bars, and she struggles to open the packet, but she eventually does. She pulls out the bar and takes a bite. “Good?” Draco asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria swallows. “Yes.” She finishes her first and second one quite fast, so Draco tosses her a third. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, we are finding the Order, right?” Astoria asks, when she finishes her breakfast. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. We have the deluminator now, which should lead us straight to them.” Draco eats a granola bar himself, but just one. He knows how to survive on little amounts of food. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few moments, he says “We should shower. I don’t know when we will be in a place with running water again.” Astoria nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to go first?” she asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. You can go.” He says, resisting the urge to suggest ways to prevent wasting water. She smiles and jumps up, heading for the small bathroom. He packs up her potions, and turns his head to the place he had been avoiding looking at for hours. The corner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the corner, lies a bunched up towel, covering the thing that he not only wants nothing to do with, but also the thing that tugs at his consciousness, making his fingers itch with want. He carefully, very carefully, picks up the towel, being sure to not lay eyes on the wand, or touch it directly. He wraps it up and tosses it in the bag, pulling the drawstring tight. There. He won’t have to use or look at it. His maple wand will work just fine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of running water can be heard and Draco finds himself swallowing hard. The past few days have been difficult for him and she...well. He should thank her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria is out of the shower, dressed and ready to go. She finds the room all packed up and smiles. “You’ve been busy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to talk to you.” Draco says. Her hair is damp, and small droplets of water drip from the stands, soaking into the jumper. Her face falls slightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” she says quietly. She looks shy, and a little scared. She clutches the material of her jumper in between her thumb and forefinger, rubbing the cloth between them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...er...look.” Draco takes a step forward. Astoria looks a little crestfallen and he can’t imagine why. “I wanted to thank you.” Confusion darts across her features. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For telling me about Fiona. That...well. It was hard for you. And I, well. It helped me.” Merlin. That was bad. He has said it before, he will say it again. He is absolutely rubbish at this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The apprehension on her face disappears, and she gives him a brilliant smile, that looks somewhat relieved. “You’re welcome. I meant it, you know. Everything I said.” Draco nods, stepping a little closer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.” Draco considers her a moment. “You looked worried. What did you think I’d say?” Astoria’s apprehension is back, though it looks more like nervous jitters than any actual real fear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, nothing.” Astoria says, a little breathlessly. Draco gives her a blank stare, one that says </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m not buying it</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Well, I sort of thought you were going to say something about last night.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What would I say?” Draco asks, grinning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I don’t know. Just maybe that I did something wrong...or that I was too...well. I don’t know.” Astoria rambles, trying to dart around him. He catches her waist and pulls her back in front of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm. I see. I shall have to make it more evident.” Draco smirks down at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I shall have to make it more evident. That I find you more than satisfactory.” He is teasing her now, and she shakes her head at him, but she does relax. “I’ll start now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leans down, kissing her long and slow, before pulling away. “I’ll finish later.” With that, he heads to the shower, ignoring her slightly stunned look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he is out and dressed, he pulls out the deluminator, after several long minutes of looking for it. “Why don’t you just summon it?” Astoria asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco frowns. He hadn’t thought of that. “Never you mind.” he grumbles, slightly embarrassed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where is the wand?” Astoria asks gingerly, as though she is a little afraid to speak of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The bag.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You aren’t going to use it?” she asks, frowning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not unless I have to.” Draco slings the bag over his shoulder. “Ready?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. If you are.” Draco clicks the deluminator and watches as the ball of light spins in front of him. He can hear low, muted conversation, though it is impossible to tell what.  The ball of light floats in front of them and out the bedroom door. Draco and Astoria follow it into the sitting room, and watch it bump lightly against the front door, waiting for someone to open it. Draco opens the door and he and Astoria follow the light into the trees. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they walk, Astoria asks “The horcrux. Do you know how to destroy it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. We need basilisk venom. That’s why I was asking about your father. I wanted to know if he had any.” Astoria frowns. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Well, I don’t think he does. You know, the Dark Lord banned basilisk breeding. I guess that’s why.” Astoria thinks for a moment. “Perhaps the other types of magic he’s banned could also destroy the horcrux. Like, he banned fiendfyre. We could try—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No fiendfyre. I don’t like it.” Draco snaps. Astoria purses her lips, pressing them into a thin line. She took a deep breath before pulling the extra coat tighter around herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think anyone likes it, but—” Astoria tries again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said no.” Draco doesn’t want to talk about this right now. Usually, Astoria is intuitive as to when he is done with a conversation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it difficult to cast?” she asks softly, pressing him. He sighs. Apparently, she wasn’t. Or more likely, she considered the conversation more important than whether or not he wanted to have it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. That’s what makes it so dangerous, alright? Any idiot can cast it, but it’s almost impossible to control. It just isn’t a good idea. Trust me.” Astoria bites her lip, and he can tell she is thinking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright. That makes sense. We won’t use it.” Astoria gives him a small smile and pushes ahead, until she is walking in front of him. Draco sighs in relief. Done. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They walk along in silence, until Astoria slows down slightly. “Do you have water?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Draco pulls out a bottle and hands it to her. She takes a small sip, before handing it back to him. “The bottle is charmed. We won’t run out.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Astoria takes a few more sips, before handing it over to him so he could do the same. “Do you have any idea where we might be headed?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Based on our direction, I would say we are probably headed to Khovrino. It’s a town with a railway station, and it should take us into Moscow. I guess we were headed to the city anyway. So much for staying hidden.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are we going to do about the ball of light? I mean, the muggles might get suspicious if they see it. It might annoy them. I don’t fancy being burned.” Astoria says nervously, glancing around as if a band of muggles were waiting in the trees, waiting to tie her to the stakes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was kidding when I told you that Astoria. No one burns witches anymore. They haven’t for a couple hundred years.” Astoria shoots him a glare. “But, you’re right. The Russians aren’t a difficult wizarding community to live with. They don’t have very many rules, but they absolutely despise when wizards rouse suspicion. So, we will have to be discreet about it. Maybe cast a concealing charm, or maybe the Parces charm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A parces charm?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. It makes people look away from an item or person. Like, their eyes just sort of skip over it. The ministry uses it all the time.” Draco explains. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They walk for a long time, and cast several warming charms on their clothes. It’s November, which means Russia is cold. Very cold. Draco glances over at Astoria every so often, but she seems alright. Occasionally, he thinks he sees a slight flicker of pain in her expression, but it disappears so quickly that he can’t be sure. Still, he asks “Feel okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria gives him a soft smile. “Great. Just a little sore. Moving around helps.” Draco nods. Good. They would be doing a lot of walking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you have to rest, tell me. It’s not a big deal.” Draco assures. Astoria bumps her shoulder against him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll let you know.” The silence returns. Draco doesn’t feel as awful as he did the other day. If he spent more time thinking about what happened, he would probably still be feeling guilty, but he decided that he wasn’t going to waste time wallowing in his regret. Besides, Astoria had been right. He had to keep moving forward. And, at least he had her to move forward with him. It helped knowing he wasn’t the only one of the two of them who had made mistakes. For the first time in a long time, he had hope. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s your favorite color?” Astoria asks, calling him from his thoughts. Uhhhh. He had never really thought about it before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously? I don’t believe you.” Astoria exclaims. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m telling the truth.” Draco insists. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have to find you one.” Astoria declares. Draco rolls his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s yours?” he asks. He doesn’t really care for such mundane conversation, but he is so incredibly bored right now, following a ball of light through some trees, that he just might participate. Astoria seems to be considering his question. “What, you don’t have one either?” he teases. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do! I’m just thinking. I have several I like, so I’m trying to decide which one is my favorite.” Astoria explains. Draco scoffs, but when Astoria isn’t looking he smiles a little. “Got it!” she says. Draco raises his eyebrows. “It’s grey.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grey? That’s boring. Why?” Draco teases. Astoria shrugs, and doesn’t meet his eye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just because. Now, we have to find you one.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I pick grey.” Draco announces. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! You can’t just steal mine. It has to be original.” Astoria complains. Draco gives a long, suffering sigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t you just tell me what my favorite color is?” Draco suggests, sarcastically. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because that would be cheating.” Astoria huffs. Draco gives her an annoyed look. “Fine. I’ll suggest a color. But, if you don’t like it, you have to tell me.” Astoria relents. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Deal.” Draco agrees. It’s about mid afternoon now, and the sun is high in the sky, but fails to offer much warmth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Cornflower blue.” Astoria proclaims after several minutes of thought, clearly very proud of herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Draco laughs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cornflower blue!” Astoria insists, giving him an exasperated look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is so ridiculous. Just say blue.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. There are different shades of blue. Like sky blue, navy, Egyptian blue. Oh and there is sapphire blue and royal blue—” Astoria is so distracted that she almost stumbles over a tree root. Draco grabs her arm before she can fall, smirking at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t like it?” she asks. Draco sighs. He doesn’t care either way. Blue it is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what? I really don’t care. Blue is sufficient.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cornflower Blue.” Astoria reminds him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you insist.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not very enthusiastic.” Astoria complains. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It will have to do.” Astoria looks like she wants to argue some more, but they are reaching the outskirts of a small town. Draco points his wand at the ball of light and says “<em>Parces.”</em> </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria turns her head, looking off to the side, gaze just far enough to the left that she doesn’t see the light. Draco snorts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where did it go?” Astoria asks. Draco shakes his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The caster can still see it. Just follow me.” Astoria does so, and after about another mile, the light leads them to the railway station, hovering by a train that left in fifteen minutes for Moscow. Draco purchases tickets, transfiguring some money, and leads Astoria onto the train. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The ride should only be about thirty minutes.” Draco tells her. They sit side by side on the train, and Astoria leans into him, her eyes closing slightly. When the train starts, she jumps slightly, and turns to look out the window. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think the Order is in Russia?” Astoria asks. Draco elbows her, giving her a look. Luckily, the train is relatively empty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t say that. Careful, alright?” Astoria looks at him guiltily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry.” she whispers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I don’t think so. It’s getting colder, so usually they stay somewhere warmer, from what I remember about trying to track them. If I had to bet, I would say somewhere in the Americas. But, I don’t know where.” Astoria looks out the window again, thoughtfully. “We will have to take a plane.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A plane? Surely not. That is a horrible idea!” Astoria scoffs. “We should just apparate.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can’t. We have to follow the light. I don’t know for sure where it will take us anyway. It makes no sense to apparate to the Americas, just to end up in Cairo or something.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We aren’t flying through the Bermuda Triangle are we?” Astoria asks nervously, her fingers beginning to run across the sleeve of his coat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The what?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I read about it. In a muggle book! The planes fly over this part of the ocean, and they disappear!” Astoria hisses. Draco laughs at her. He had never heard of this, but it sounded like rubbish to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Astoria. I have flown dozens of times. It’s not bad at all.” Astoria seems mollified by this, because she doesn’t say anymore about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The train screeches to a stop. Draco stands up to get off, but Astoria yanks him back down. “What?” he grumbles. Astoria gestures to the station, where two men in black robes are garnering strange looks from the muggles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damnit. Jugson and Gibbon.” Draco whispers, crouching low. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did they know where to find us?” Astoria clutches his arm as she crouches next to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They probably have Death Eaters looking for us in a few major cities, especially at big terminals like this. They are here by coincidence, not because they’ve found us.” Draco assures her, hoping it’s true. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco casts a few glamour charms on her, making her hair blonde and her nose larger. Draco does the same for himself, making his hair red, much to his distaste. He turns the collar of his coat up and does the same to Astoria’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s move. Walk quickly. Don’t say or do anything.” Draco clicks the deluminator and the light disappears. Astoria grasps his hand, which isn’t a smart idea. “We can’t look like we are together. You walk in front of me, and I’ll follow right behind you. If something happens to you, I’ll see it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know where to go.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t matter. Just head away from the Death Eaters.” He gives Astoria’s hand a reassuring squeeze, and gives her a little push. She throws a worried look his way, before exiting the train. He waits a few moments, and follows her out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria follows the muggles toward the exit of the terminal, refusing to even look in the direction of the Death Eaters. Her hands are shaking slightly and so Draco coughs loud enough for her to hear, to let her know he is right behind her. Astoria smiles slightly and leads him out of the station and down a city street. After about ten minutes, she stops and turns around. Draco catches up to her, and bumps his shoulder against hers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. They didn’t even look in our direction.” Draco tells her, raising his wand and removing the glamour charms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You looked silly with red hair.” Astoria says, her voice slightly off. She is still scanning the area nervously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I agree.” Draco looks around, trying to remember what part of the city they are in. Once he gets his bearings, he grabs Astoria’s hand. “Airport is a thirty minute walk that way.” he says, gesturing with his other hand. He pulls the deluminator out of his pocket, and clicks it. Just as he suspected, the light begins to float toward the airport. He casts the parces charm once more, and pulls Astoria along. She clutches his hand tightly. She had mentioned she didn’t spend much time around Death Eaters, well apart from him, and they clearly made her very nervous. Of course, they would make anyone nervous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He keeps his eye peeled for other Death Eaters, but he doesn’t see any. As he walks, he points out certain shops or businesses, or historical sights. Astoria listens, and asks questions, seemingly grateful for the distraction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When there is a break in conversation, she asks, “Draco? What do you think they will do to our families?” Draco sighs. Truthfully he doesn’t think they would do much of anything, but he doesn’t know that for sure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, Daphne is their ideal witch. Pure-bloods have spent years praising her.  Everyone loves her. I mean, really loves her. I don’t think The Ministry will feel comfortable doing anything drastic to her. Bad PR. I can’t be sure though.” Draco tries to reassure her. She seems to relax at his words, and he doesn’t know if he should feel good or bad about that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about yours?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bellatrix will protect them. She won’t let anything happen to my mother, and my mother will beg her to protect my father. Bellatrix has kept my family alive before. She will do it again.” Draco hopes this is true. He tries not to think about it the rest of the way there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They get to the airport, and it is nearly half past eight when they do. Astoria looks around drinking everything in. When she sees a plane through the window, she stops to stare. Draco allows her a few seconds, but has to push her forward so they don’t lose the light. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ball floats to the gate, and Draco is able to decipher that the sign indicates the flight will be heading to Istanbul. Draco stores the light back inside the deluminator. Now that they know where they are headed, they don’t need it until they land. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco tells Astoria to wait in the seating area while he buys the tickets. He can tell that her legs are hurting her, and he doesn’t want to push her anymore than he has to. She sits directly in his line of sight so that if he needs to get to her, he will know exactly where she is. He also doesn’t want her to see him cast the confundus charm on the people working the desk. Draco never traveled with the proper documents and he didn’t have time to get them now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He returns with the tickets and Astoria stands up. “Where are we flying?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Istanbul. But, it’s likely a stop. I could be wrong, but I don’t think that’s our final destination.” Astoria looks confused. “Planes stop. You can’t fly across the world in one go. You have to change planes. I don’t really know why. Something about the fuel maybe.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco and Astoria head to the gate. Their flight is taking off in just a few minutes and boarding will be closed soon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s fuel?” Draco is about to answer when out of the corner of his eye, he spies Gibson and Jugson. They haven’t spotted them but they are heading in their direction. Draco grabs Astoria and pulls her to the gate, flashing the tickets at the woman working the terminal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just in time!” she smiles. Gibson and Jugson are lost in the crowd behind them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco pushes Astoria ahead of him, glancing nervously over his shoulder. They board the plane easily and Astoria sinks into the seat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did they see us?” Astoria asks. Draco shakes his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I don’t think so.” Draco sits down next to her. She is gripping the armrests rather tightly. “Relax, would you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is a rather heavy vessel. Are you sure it can stay airborne?” Astoria is looking out the window, swallowing nervously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Well, mostly.” Astoria gives him a startled look, quickly turning to annoyance when she sees him laughing at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the plane takes off, Astoria looks rather pale and her hand drops to his knee, holding on to him for dear life. Once they are in the air, he has to pry her hand off his leg. He is certain her grip has probably left a bruise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Try to sleep.” Draco commands. Astoria looks far too nervous to sleep, but she does try, curling up slightly. Her fingers are doing the same little nervous dance they always do, running up and down, back and forth the fabric of the plane seat, or the armrests. When they fall on his leg, he tenses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Astoria.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She jumps slightly, turning red. “Sorry.” Draco moves her hand to his arm and stares out the window, her fingers darting up and down his sleeve. It takes a few minutes, but eventually she relaxes enough to slip into an uneasy sleep. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0068"><h2>68. Astoria</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Istanbul is a beautiful city. Or, at least that is what Astoria thinks. She can only see a little from the window of the airport, but it looks nice. Draco doesn’t allow her much time to look, however. While he had been all sly jokes and sarcastic comments on the plane, teasing her relentlessly as soon as she woke up, that changed once the plane landed. He is in ‘business mode’ now, which means that he is very serious and very bossy. It is in equal parts endearing and annoying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco is holding her hand, pulling her through the crowded airport, eyes scanning the people around them, likely looking for a familiar face or a flash of black robes. He sees none. He pulls them in front of the restrooms and pushes her towards the ladies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go.” Astoria rolls her eyes and walks in. When she steps out, Draco isn’t there. Her heart drops and scans the airport frantically. A hand grabs her shoulder and she jumps a mile high, yelping. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s me.” Astoria whips around to find Draco standing there, an eyebrow raised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Sorry. I thought…” Astoria trails off. What had she thought? The Death Eaters had tracked them to Istanbul? That was unlikely to happen Once they left Britain it would be extremely hard to track them. Moscow was a fluke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was getting tickets. We’re flying to the U.S. Come on. Our plane is boarding.” Draco squeezes her shoulder lightly, pushing her toward the gate. A small boy is running around in circles and Astoria stops to watch, smiling lightly. She loves children. She doesn’t get to spend a lot of time around them, and she remembers the days when she used to hope Daphne would get pregnant. Of course, now Astoria is glad that Daphne hadn’t been.  That would have been horrible. Draco said he had written Daphne before they left, warning her to leave Nott. She hopes her sister did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keep moving.” Draco gives her another light shove. Astoria hadn’t realized she’d been staring so long and she ducks her head, slightly embarrassed. Draco and her board a plane and this time, Astoria offers Draco the window seat. He doesn’t take it. “Just sit.” Astoria shrugs and takes her seat, a lot less nervous now than she had been on the last flight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You're grumpy.” Astoria comments as Draco sinks into the seat next to her. He sighs heavily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry. Just nervous. Turkey has ties with our Ministry. A lot of the European countries are talking about just surrendering. No one wants to fight the Dark Lord. It’s not like Russia. If a wizard sees us here, well. They’ll contact our Ministry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria’s eyes widen and she nervously looks around. Wizards wouldn’t be on a muggle airplane, would they? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry. I didn’t want to scare you.” Draco comments, seeing her frightened expression. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. It’s fine.” Astoria says, turning to look at him. He gives her a curt nod. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco hisses suddenly, his right hand clamping down on his left forearm. His teeth are clenched and his face is twisted into a grimace of pain. Astoria gives him a startled look. “What? What is it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing. He’s calling everyone back. Probably wants a status update on whether or not they’ve found anything.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It burns?” Astoria asks, a stupid question she realizes. Of course it did. That’s sort of the whole point of the Dark Mark. Draco doesn’t respond. He just leans his head back against the seat, gritting his teeth. Astoria doesn’t know what to do, so she doesn’t do anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The plane takes off and Astoria grips the armrests. Maybe she isn’t quite over the whole airplane thing as much as she thought. After a few minutes, Draco lets go of his arm, giving a relieved sigh. “Sorry.” he mumbles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks tired, Astoria notices. She hopes that they can maybe find somewhere to sleep in America. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco?” Astoria asks, sure to keep her voice soft. She doesn't want to attract attention. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said a lot of the other magical governments would hand us over to the Dark Lord. What countries wouldn’t? Where would be safe?” Astoria whispers. Draco turns to look at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In reality, I don’t know. Russia is, like I said, a pretty safe bet. But, they wouldn’t risk war. Now that we have the wand, it just might be worth a war to the Dark Lord. And not many countries want to fight him if they don’t have to. As long as he keeps out of their business, they aren’t going to risk hurting their own people. The MACUSA probably wouldn’t hand us over and I don’t think Egypt would. Japan might not. But, everywhere else definitely would.” Draco runs a hand across his face. Astoria feels a weight settle in her stomach. Nowhere would be safe. Not while they had the wand. The Dark Lord wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t ever stop. Not until he had it back. How long could they hold out like this? Even when they found the Order, they wouldn’t be safe. In fact, what could the Order even do? It was in shambles, from what Astoria could tell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco put his hand on her leg, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll take care of it. If we have to hide, I’ll figure it out. I’m good at hiding, good at disappearing. If it comes to that, I can at least get you out.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Us out.” Astoria says, firmly. Draco gives her a small smile. Something about his expression doesn’t sit well with her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re tired.” Astoria whispers, a few moments later. Draco nods his head in agreement. “I slept on the last flight. I’ll keep a lookout. For anything suspicious.” Astoria suggests. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I’m good.” Draco assures her. She reaches up, pushing his hair out of his face, before sliding a hand through it. If she strokes his hair, he will do nearly anything she says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you are. But, I think this flight is safe. It will be a long time before we land. Are you sure? This would be a good time.” Astoria murmurs. Draco’s eyes slip closed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“An hour. I need you to wake me up after, okay?” Draco relents. Astoria smirks. She has no plans to wake him up after an hour. Draco doesn’t wait for her to agree, before falling asleep. That’s his own fault. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She lets her thoughts wander and is unsurprised when they land on the one night that she has been constantly turning over in her head. Astoria thought she would somehow feel different. It had been her first time, doing. Well. Anything like that. But, in actuality, she doesn’t feel any different at all. Well, okay. Maybe a little different. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her face starts to feel a little warm, so she tries to think of something else. She doesn’t want to think about Daphne. That makes her far too upset as Astoria knows that if Daphne is in any kind of trouble, there is very little she would be able to do about it. Part of her regrets telling Draco to sleep. He was a welcome distraction to the thoughts she would rather not discuss. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco groans in his sleep, brow furrowing. Astoria sighs. His face always looks so...tense. Even if it’s for the wealth of reasons that they have to be anxious, Astoria wishes he would just relax. The only time she’d really seen him let go a little bit was...Well anyway. He is going to get wrinkles if he keeps this up. That’s what Daphne would say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria waits five hours for Draco to wake up, and when he does, he is disgruntled that she didn’t wake him up sooner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said you would.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never said that. You just ordered me to. I never told you I would comply.” Astoria teases. Draco glares at her. “Relax. Nothing happened. Except the most boring five hours of my life.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Five hours!” Draco exclaims, cursing and looking out the window. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you’d be more cheerful if you slept. Clearly that isn’t they case.” Draco rolls his eyes at her teasing. “How much longer?” Astoria asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve got seven hours left before we land.” Draco tells her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm. Tell me a story.” Astoria orders. Draco gives her an incredulous look. “I’ve told you several. Repay the favor.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The favor? Ah, yes. Because I just loved those stories.” Astoria gives him an unamused look. “Fine. There once was an extremely handsome wizard, who was so annoyed with his travelling companion, that he leapt from the plane, hurtling to his death.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me about this travelling companion. She sounds fun.” Astoria says calmly, refusing to rise to the bait. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, she is.” Draco gives her a wicked smirk, and Astoria turns to look out the window, swallowing nervously, trying to ignore the shiver that crept down her spine. She changed her mind. She wants Draco to fall back asleep. He always insists on saying things that he knows will make her nervous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco hums lightly and then says “I can tell you a story my father told me once.” Astoria looks at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He told you stories?” Astoria asks, quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright. Let’s hear it.” Astoria says, turning to face him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There once was a cat and a mouse. They were good friends, see. And the cat always made a point to tell the mouse how much he loved and cared for him. So much so, that the mouse invited the cat to live with him.” Draco starts. Astoria frowns. This doesn’t sound like a Lucius Malfoy sort of story, but she doesn’t want to interrupt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, winter was coming, and the cat tells the mouse that they have to gather food for the winter, or they will starve. The cat tells the mouse that it is far too dangerous for him to go outside, because he fears that his friend will be caught in some horrible trap. So, the cat and the mouse both buy a large jar of fat together, to keep until winter.” Draco places his hand on her thigh and Astoria flushes slightly, grateful Draco has his eyes closed and his head leaned back, so he can’t see her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, the mouse and the cat talk about where they are going to store the fat. The cat tells the mouse that he knows the perfect place for it to be kept, and he and the mouse take the jar of fat to be stored in a church.” Draco says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A church? Is this a muggle story?” Astoria asks, softly. Lucius Malfoy telling his son a muggle story? Odd. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. It is. Weird. I know.” Draco says, opening his eyes to look at her. His gaze is filled with unsure trepidation and so Astoria smiles at him, trying to let him know that it isn’t a big deal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keep going.” Astoria says, placing her hand over Draco’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. So, anyway. They take the fat to the church because as the cat tells the mouse, no one would dare steal fat from the church. That would be wrong. So they hide it beneath the altar, and they both agree not to touch it until winter. But, as a few days go by, the cat starts thinking about the jar of fat, starts craving it.” Draco grins mischievously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, the cat had to find a way to sneak back to the church, without the mouse getting suspicious that he was stealing fat from the jar they shared. The cat goes to the mouse and lies, saying that his cousin has just given birth to a son, a cute little white kitten with brown spots, and that he has been named the godfather. So, he tells the mouse he is going to the church for the christening and to look after the house while he is gone. The mouse, of course, is all too happy for him to go, and bids the cat to have a good time.” Astoria likes kittens. She’d had one in school, but it ran away at King’s Crossing one year. It was frightened in big crowds. It had been a sweet, little tortoiseshell cat, and Astoria had cried the whole way to school. Daphne had tried in vain to console her, and bought her the whole trolley’s worth of pumpkin pasties. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The cat was a liar. He had no cousin, and he hadn’t been named godfather. He just wanted some of the fat. So the cat sneaks into the church, and goes to the jar of fat, and licks the top layer of the fat off, taking just a little bit.  Then, he took a nice walk around town, laid in the sun a bit, and he didn’t go back home until evening. When he walks in the door, the mouse says “How did it go? What did they name the kitten?’ The cat replies “Oh! They named it Top-off!’ The mouse thought this was a very strange name for a little kitten, but he didn't want to offend the cat so he didn’t say anything.” Draco says, laughing a little. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Top-off? Because the top part of the jar was gone?” Astoria asks, smiling. Draco nods. “Funny.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The cat thought so too. It was like his own little private joke. And, it wasn’t too long, before the cat started to crave the fat again. So, he told the mouse that another cousin of his had given birth, and that he had also been named the godfather. The mouse was so excited at the cat's good fortune, that he bid the cat to go to the christening, promising to look after the house while the cat was away. So, the cat goes back to the church, and licks away at the fat, until only half the fat remained in the jar. When the cat gets home the mouse asks what they named the kitten, and the cat says “Half-gone.’ The mouse is so surprised that this kitten has been cursed with a horrible name and feels very sorry for the kittens, but he doesn’t want to offend the cat, so he still doesn’t say anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does the mouse ever figure it out?” Astoria asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m getting to it. So, it isn’t too long, until the cat just can’t hold back his hunger for the fat, and he makes up another christening. The mouse is starting to get suspicious, but he doesn’t want to call his good friend a liar, and so he agrees to work hard and clean the house while the cat is away at the christening. The cat sneaks off to the church, and licks away all the fat in the jar. When he gets back to the house, the mouse asks what they decided to name this kitten, and the cat tells him “All-done.’ The mouse is just horrified and says “All-done? Your family names it’s children the strangest things! I haven’t heard such a horrible name in all my life!’ The cat reassured the mouse that his family had strange traditions and that it was nothing to worry about, and they both went to sleep.” Draco removes his hand from her leg and absentmindedly begins to touch her hair, twirling a piece between his fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, it was winter time and the mouse said it’s time for the cat and him to go and collect their jar of fat. Now, when the mouse got to the church and saw the empty jar he realized what had happened. He turned to the cat and he said “Top-off? Half-gone? All-done? Why, you were never a godfather! You were just stealing our fat!’ Well, the cat laughs at the mouse, and then, eats him.” Astoria gasps. </span>
</p><p><span>“What? Just like that?” </span><span><br/></span> <span>“Just like that. Then, when the cat was done, it smiled. Because that is the way of the world. You can either be a mouse or a cat. There is no in-between. That’s how my father ended the story.” Draco says. </span></p><p>
  <span>“That’s a horrible story!” Astoria says, turning her head to look at him. Draco shrugs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I suppose so. But it’s the only one I know.” Astoria rolls her eyes. What an awful story to tell your child, what an awful lesson to teach. Of course, she shouldn’t be surprised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll have to learn new ones. Better ones.” Astoria assures. Draco doesn’t comment, he only smirks at her, before looking out the window. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The plane lands, and they hurry off it. They are in a large city, with a thick haze that hovers over the buildings and an air around it that Astoria doesn’t like. It’s dirty and ugly. The skyscrapers are large and Astoria can see a building in the distance with a shiny, golden roof. At one time, it might have been pretty, but it now looks dingy and neglected. A sign tells them they are in Atlanta, and Astoria wrinkles her nose. What a horrid place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright?” Draco asks, concerned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine. Where are we going?” Astoria asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. I haven’t been here before. I stayed in New York, close to MACUSA headquarters when I came here last. I’ll need to rent us a car, though. Americans drive.” Oh god. Not a car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they arrive at a rental place, via a bus that Astoria didn’t like very much, as it was just a very large car, hurtling down a street at a pace Astoria didn’t find very safe, Astoria tells Draco to make sure he gets a small car. She doesn’t like the big ones and she doesn't care if she has to walk the whole way, she isn’t riding in a big car. Draco assures her he is a great driver. He has driven a total of eight times, and only got into one accident. He is surprised when this doesn’t inspire an overwhelming confidence in Astoria. Oh well. Astoria can’t help him there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco grumbles, but rents a neat little “civic”, whatever that means. Astoria eyes it mistrustfully, but she doesn’t really have any other options. “I could wait here, and you could drive to wherever we are supposed to be, and then, you could apparate back here and get me.” Astoria tries, rather desperately. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get in the car Astoria.” Well, she supposed that was that. She opens the car door and climbs in, taking a few moments to strap herself into the seat. She hears a mechanical sort of click, and she is trapped in the seat, the strap locking up when she moves too far forward. Draco puts the key into a little hole near the steering wheel, turns, and the car begins to vibrate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s broken.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not. Would you relax? People are going to think I’m kidnapping you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are. I don’t want to ride in this car.” Astoria argues. Draco pulls out of the parking spot, looking over his shoulder as he backs out. “You’re driving backwards, Draco.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. Be quiet. I need to focus.” Astoria definitely doesn’t want him to lose focus so she is deathly still and very quiet. She just hopes he noticed that the cars drive on the other side of the road here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The roads here in Atlanta are murderous. People drive fast, zipping in and out of their lane, and at times, the traffic is so thick and so fast, that Astoria can’t even bear to look out the window. She screws her eyes shut tightly, and refuses to open them until Draco has pulled into a “gas station.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look at that. You're alive.” Draco grumbles, clearly upset at her complete and utter lack of faith in his driving skills. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were wonderful.” Astoria chokes out, trying to be encouraging. Draco just rolls his eyes, and gets out of the car, walking into the building. It's red, white, and blue, with a funny symbol on top. When he comes back out, he takes one of the long tubes sticking out from a contraption and puts it in their car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few moments later, he gets back inside the car, and starts it again. Now that they aren’t driving on the “infrarate?” well, whatever it was called, the roads were better. Draco had a large map that he was reading. The light from the deluminator would hover over it, occasionally indicating they turn right or left. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a while, Draco pulls over and gets out of the car, gesturing for Astoria to follow him, after the ball of light started knocking insistently against the car door. Astoria does so, grateful to be out of the car. “Where are we?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t know. Somewhere near Macon. We passed a sign not too long ago.” Draco says, staring straight ahead, following the ball of light into the trees next to the highway. Astoria starts after him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It isn’t nearly as cold here as it had been in Russia or in England. In fact, this is the warmest she has ever been in November. After walking a few paces, Draco takes his coat off, stuffing it in the bag. They walk for a long time. The moon is high in the sky and Astoria is starting to get tired. She doesn’t want to stop, though. From what Draco has told her, the Order moves around a lot. They could be gone tomorrow. Of course, Astoria is slightly nervous, okay. Well, a lot nervous, about meeting the Order. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I mean, Harry Potter would be there! How exciting! She doesn’t share this sentiment with Draco however. Which brings up the next issue. Draco may have changed his allegiances, but he was still very much himself. He is commanding, certainly still says many scathing remarks, even if there wasn’t any real malice behind them, and he still acted as if he was far superior to most people he encountered. This could go very badly. Draco didn’t exactly get along with these people, and she doubts that is going to change. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria is just beginning to suggest that Draco remember that they need these people to like them, and to try to act polite, when he holds up a hand, signaling her to stop. The ball of light is hovering in one place, still. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t see anything.” Astoria says, glancing around. It’s true. It’s an empty clearing, and Astoria can’t see anything besides sticks, leaves, and trees. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hand slips over Astoria’s mouth, clamping down tightly over her mouth and nose, making it hard to breathe. A very sharp poke hits her spine, a tip of a wand, she realizes. She gives a muffled scream and Draco turns toward her, wand drawn. Astoria inches her hand toward the wand in her pocket, but a large hand clamps down on her wrist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0069"><h2>69. Draco</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Draco stares at the figure before him who holds Astoria tightly. Astoria’s eyes are wide and frightened. One of the figure’s hands is clamped over her mouth and the other holds her wrist, a wand now pressed into the inside of her forearm. It’s too dark to tell who holds her, and Draco doesn’t know if it’s a Death Eater, a MACUSA official, or some random wizard. He tries to remember what the voice sounded like, American accent or British. His wand is pointed forward, and as he opens his mouth, the figure says “Don’t move. I’ll hurt her.” Man's voice, familiar accent. Draco complies. He doesn’t have a choice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria moves suddenly, twisting,  bringing her knee up to hit the figure in the groin. She wrenches herself out of his grasp, grabbing her wand. The figure grabs for her hair, pulling her back. Draco points his wand shouting “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Impedimenta!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” The target freezes, only for a moment, but enough for Astoria to pull herself free. She runs to Draco’s side, drawing her wand, and he pulls her behind him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who are you?” Draco asks, trying to see outside the faint ring of light that the deluminator provides. The man steps forward, and Draco wants to cry out in relief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the faint light of the deluminator, Draco can just barely make out a face, one he barely remembers, and hasn’t seen in years. Neville Longbottom. “Longbottom.” Draco breathes, hardly daring to believe it. He certainly looks different. His hair is long, and his face is covered in scruff. There is something wild and a little dangerous about his expression. Astoria gasps slightly, leaning forward. Draco pulls her back. He doesn’t look right. He looks very, very angry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did you find us? Did he send you? Finally admit we are alive?” Neville’s voice is hard and cold.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We used a deluminator. No one sent us. We came on our own.” Draco says, calmly, evenly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Longbottom snorts. “Yeah? Decided to get some glory, Malfoy? Thought you’d bring a few trophies back to your master?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. We aren’t here for the Dark— for You-know-who. We are here for ourselves.” Astoria says, quietly, firmly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who are you?” Neville sneers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don't answer.” Draco cuts her off. He suddenly doesn’t want Longbottom to know her name, not until he has calmed down, at least. Astoria frowns. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s suspicious. The goal is to not be suspicious.” Astoria whispers. Draco squeezes her arm, warningly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goal? What is your goal Malfoy? What are you and the girl doing here?” Longbottom narrows his eyes, glaring coldly. Draco’s throat is suddenly dry.  He had always imagined finding the Order, rehearsing what he would say, how he would convince them that he was on their side. But now? He suddenly doesn’t have the words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To join you!” Astoria says, excitedly, her voice trembling slightly. Draco could tell this is not how she thought this would be going. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Longbottom pointed his wand at her, and Draco moved farther in front of her. “Look, Longbottom. I have some things for Potter. I’ll leave them here, and we will go, alright?” That is the thing to do. Dump the wand and the cup and hide here with Potter; it could be his problem. They could live as muggles in Alaska, or something. Maybe Florida. Astoria might like Disney World. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh no. You aren’t leaving. Not now. If you don’t want me to curse you, you will drop your wands, and you will come with me. If you're telling the truth, you shouldn’t care, right?” Longbottom’s tone is scathing and he gestures to the ground with the tip of his wand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria throws her wand down, tossing it so it lands at Longbottom's feet. “Astoria!” he groans. They are supposed to decide these sort of things together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do it, Draco. Come on. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s the Order.</span>
  </em>
  <span> They won’t kill us.” Draco shakes his head. “They’re bound by some sort of moral code. They will hear us out. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What we have </span>
  </em>
  <span>is too good to refuse.” Astoria whispers, her hand clutching his wand arm. The message in her eyes is clear. They have another wand. If things with the Order get bad, well. Potter wouldn’t be able to stop them even if he wants to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco sighs and tosses his wand. Longbottom picks them both up and nods toward the trees. “Walk.” Draco walks past him, pulling Astoria with him, careful not to stumble over tree roots. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They walk only a few feet, maybe fifty, before a camp begins to materialize around them in a small clearing, the wards allowing them in. About thirty people are in the clearing, some hang around an outcropping of tents and others sit by a large fire. There is a hum of tense conversation that stops suddenly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neville! Are you alright? We heard shouting and—” a girl with dull, red hair comes forward, stopping, and gasping when she sees who Neville brought with him. Draco thinks it might be Susan Bones, but he isn’t sure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ron Weasley pushes forward. “So. This is who set off the wards. Malfoy. Should have known he’d come trying to kill us sooner or later.” Draco grimaces. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, Weasley. We—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up. You don’t get to speak.” Draco grits his teeth. He opens his mouth, ready to fire back, but Astoria elbows him. Ron narrows his eyes at her. “Who are you? They let little things like you join the Death Eaters?” Astoria huffs indignantly, eyeing the group of people who are throwing accusing stares their way. There are more wands pointed at them than Draco has fingers and toes to count. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The crowd parts easily, revealing Potter, who gapes at him slightly, before clenching his jaw. “Malfoy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Potter.” Harry narrows his eyes, and pulls his wand. Draco glares at the sight. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s his wand.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing here?” Potter asks, voice cool. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I came to join you. We left.” Draco says, voice breaking slightly. Astoria draws herself closer to him, as Weasley takes another threatening step forward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ronald. Don’t.” Granger reaches over, pulling him back. “Don’t do anything yet. They are unarmed.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mon Harry. I say we obliviate them. Dump them somewhere and get out of here. Maybe some muggles will find a loony bin to stuff them in.” Weasley spits. Astoria clutches Draco’s arm, pulling him backwards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s rich.” Draco scoffs. His eyes rove the crowd for Lovegood, but she isn’t here. His stomach drops. Perhaps she died in the battle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rich? It’s more than you deserve!” Weasley shouts. Draco rolls his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should be falling to the ground, thanking me! Do you have any idea what I’ve done? What I’ve risked to get here?!” Draco shouts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco. Careful.” Astoria warns softly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Weasley takes another step forward. “Yeah. I’d listen to the girl. You're outmatched.” Draco shakes his head in disbelief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unbelievable. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Un-fucking-believable.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Draco curses, sliding the bag off his shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t move, Malfoy!” Potter shouts. Draco ignores him. He reaches into the bag and pulls out the cup, the horcrux. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what? Here it is! Here is your bloody horcrux!” Draco throws the cup on the ground, at Potter’s feet. There are several hushed whispers throughout the camp, and several curses. Granger gives a startled gasp. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not possible.” Granger whispers, giving him an astounded look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco sees the elder wand, and honestly, they can have that too. He really doesn’t want it. More trouble than it’s worth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And here. Is the fucking elder wand.” He takes it, tossing it next to the cup. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco!” Astoria gasps. Perhaps that wasn’t smart. Now they don’t have a wand at all. But, he is so angry, he can’t even see straight. After everything, this is the reaction he gets? He hadn’t expected them to be excited to see him, but he hadn’t expected this level of animosity either. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s you. You disarmed Voldemort!” Granger gasps, moving forward, eyes wide. Draco doesn’t even spare her a second glance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Malfoy, wait a minute.” Potter calls out, stepping forward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. You know what I think? I think you're jealous. You don’t want to accept the fact, that I accomplished more in a week, than you have in four fucking years!” Draco shouts. Astoria pulls him backwards, whispering his name warningly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, Astoria. We’re leaving.” He grabs her and pushes her toward Longbottom. “Our wands. Give them to us. We’ll leave.” Longbottom is still giving them a stunned look. “Today, Longbottom.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco?” a soft voice calls, a voice he knows well. He whips his head in the direction of the sound, and his eyes fall on a woman, with long, dirty-blonde hair, who is stepping out of the trees, accompanied by a Weasley twin. Her skin is flushed and her hair is slightly mussed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Weasley twin gives a low whistle. “Blimey. What did we miss?” Lovegood stares at him a moment, before giving him a soft grin. She races across the clearing and Draco nervously takes a step back. When she barrels into him, wrapping her arms around his neck, he gives a startled grunt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pulls back and turns to the Weasley twin. “See George? I told you he would find us.” She turned back to him. “You came. I was waiting for you. They wouldn’t listen to me, but I knew you were on your way.” Draco laughs, choking slightly. “Of course, you always were a little slow on the uptake, but that’s alright. As long as you make it there in the end, it doesn’t really matter how long the journey takes.” Luna says, dreamily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria is standing a little bit farther back, nervously staring at her shoes. Luna turns to her, and drops her arms completely. “Who is this?” Draco reaches for her, tugging her to stand in front of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is Astoria. She’s my—” Draco pauses. His? What? Luna saves him from answering, because she gives Astoria a hug, and Astoria jumps at the contact, before awkwardly returning the hug. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello.”  She turns to Potter. “I think you’d better listen to them, Harry. I’ll vouch for Draco. He’s good.” Potter seems to deflate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Er, yeah. Alright. Listen, why don’t we talk inside my tent. I want Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and Luna with me. The rest of you wait out here.” Potter nods to a tent at the far edge of the clearing. Granger grabs the cup and the wand, and Draco tries to ignore the white-hot surge that rushes through him when she touches the wand. He shoves it down and follows the group, making sure Astoria is following after him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They step inside the tent, which has several bunk beds, a long table, and a few arm chairs. Potter sits at the table, and gestures for them to do the same. Once everyone is seated, Granger places the cup and the wand on the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So. What...Well. How did you get here? What’s the story?” Potter asks, somewhat awkwardly, as if he is fighting to keep his tone civil. Draco glances towards Astoria. She is looking around at the Order members, nervously. She looks very anxious and her fingers are running along the wood underneath the table. Weasley narrows his eyes at her and she drops her gaze, swallowing hard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco debates how much to tell them. “I left Britain shortly after the Battle of Hogwarts. I knew I wanted to join the Order as soon as the battle was over, and I tried and failed to find you. I searched for nearly four years, but Bellatrix called me back.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Weasley shakes his head in disbelief, eyeing the cup and the wand. Astoria doesn’t say anything. She is trembling slightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bellatrix has always...taken a special interest in me, and she was concerned that my, as she put it, “vacation”, was interfering with my duties as a Death Eater. She was bothered by my lack of enthusiasm, so she gave me a task.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What sort of task?” Granger asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To kill Astoria.” He nods in Astoria’s direction. “She was caught in possession of some muggle literature, books. They...well. They got angry and decided to sentence her death. I was supposed to kill her.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you didn’t? Why?” Ginny asks, eyes narrowing. “I mean, it’s a harsh sentence. She can’t be a pure-blood with a death sentence over a crime so menial. Why did you care?” Astoria flinches slightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a Greengrass. I’m pure. I just...I’m—” Astoria starts, voice shaking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A blood-traitor.” Draco saves her from answering, or mentioning her curse, and Astoria shoots him a grateful look. “She’s a blood traitor. The Dark Lord doesn’t like defiance. It doesn’t matter from who. Purity leniency will only get you so far.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ginny’s eyes widen “Greengrass? Hyperion’s daughter?” Astoria leans forward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You knew him?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. He gave us a—.” Ginny stops herself when Granger throws her a look. The silence is heavy and Astoria leans back in her seat, clearly confused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You never answered my question. Why not kill her?” Ginny asks. This is where it gets tricky. Draco knows it might not be the right move, but he wants to keep the stories private. They contained sensitive information about himself, his godfather, and even members of his family. The Order might ask to hear them, and he doesn’t want them to know. He doesn’t want to share that much about himself with anyone. He no longer cared that Astoria knew, but she was different. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t want to, okay? I never wanted to, even when I was ordered. I honestly don’t know if I even could have casted the curse, but when I went to carry out the order, Astoria stopped me. She…” Draco paused. So far, what he has said is true. He had never wanted to kill her, and he doubts he ever could have. What does he say? How can he tell them without revealing too much?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Severus Snape. He gave me some information right before the battle. About horcruxes. About the wand. I was supposed to pass it along. I did so. I told Draco what I knew.” Astoria says, voice shaking. She gives him a look. She understands. They can know everything else. But the stories? Those are private. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Potter eyes her suspiciously. “You? Why tell you?” Astoria swallows hard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. I mean, I guess he sensed things were going to go south during the battle. Like Draco said, I was a known blood-traitor. I guess he figured I’d be willing to defy the Dark Lord should he rise to power. Snape told me I could ask Draco to help me, and so I did.” Astoria lies more smoothly this time, and he can tell Potter buys it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. So, she told me what she knew, and then I sort of faked her death. I told all her friends, family, Death Eaters, everyone that she was dead. I hid her in Snape’s old house. While she was hiding out, we found the horcrux. We were about to make a bid for the wand, when they came. They took her.” Draco says, voice breaking slightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luna smiles at him encouragingly.  He gulps slightly. “I went after her and I got her and I got the wand.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why go after her?” Granger whispers. Draco swallows, glancing at Astoria. She is staring at the ground, almost resolutely, refusing to meet his eye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are...we…” Draco pauses. “We are seeing each other.” he finishes. There. That’s all that’s necessary for them to know. He doesn't need to share the details of his relationship with Potter and his ragtag group of friends. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Granger scoffs. “Before or after you decided you weren’t going to murder her?” Her tone is accusatory and scathing. Draco winces. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“After. Obviously.” Astoria says, challengingly. Granger gives her a pitying look and Astoria’s gaze hardens. She rolls her eyes and looks away, looking as if she is biting back a remark. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got to her and disarmed the Dark Lord before he could kill her. After that, we made a break for it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You disarmed Voldemort?” Weasley asks, disbelieving. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. I didn’t fight him. I just sort of snuck up behind him.” Draco qualifies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Figures. You couldn’t beat him in a fight.” Weasley says, shaking his head. Draco rolls his eyes. Unbelievable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well that's it. Believe it or not. If you're leaning towards not, do let us know. We are extremely tired, and we’d like to leave.” Draco drawled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He could be lying. It could be a trap.” Weasley whispered. Astoria groaned and let her head drop to the table with a loud thump. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We aren’t.” she whispers. She sounds as if she might cry from frustration. Draco drops his hand to her thigh, squeezing it lightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Potter leans back. “Look. They have the horcrux, we know that’s the real elder wand, we can all feel it. I don’t completely trust them, but I don’t think they are with the Dark Lord.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Granger nods. “I agree. Listen. What we know of Malfoy is still true. He is incredibly fickle and I’m willing to bet the minute it becomes less advantageous for him to be here, </span>
  <em>
    <span>he will leave</span>
  </em>
  <span>. But, I think that’s unlikely to happen. Voldemort isn’t just going to forgive someone when they stole his wand. And that's if he doesn’t know about the horcrux. He needs us. He won’t betray us as long as that’s true. And, let’s be honest. It’s going to stay true.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Normally, Draco would be annoyed with people talking about him like he wasn’t there. However, he is far too exhausted to care. Astoria’s head is still on the table and he nudges her with his knee. She looks at him and gives him a tired smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Weasley girl groaned. “Look. The Greengrasses' came through for us before. We owe Hyperion. He got us what we needed. We owe it to him to help his daughter, especially if she’s in trouble.” Astoria perks up at this, eyes widening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco is my friend. He wouldn’t lie unless he felt it was necessary or if he was embarrassed about something.” Luna says simply. Draco groans and gives her a look. “It’s true.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Weasley thinks for a moment, turning the idea over in his head. “Alright. I’ll be honest. We don’t have the numbers to turn people away. I don’t like you, Malfoy. But, you did bring us some very valuable gifts.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria sighs in relief. Potter eyes her and turns to Draco. “Well, I guess that’s that. I think we will hold on to your wands.” Draco is about to object, but Potter holds up his hands. “Just for tonight. It’s late. I don’t want to argue with the whole group. Once we can get everyone on the same page, things will be different. Just work with me here, okay?” Draco looks to Astoria who shrugs. Draco gives Harry a curt nod. Fine. That’s fine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine. For tonight. But, not any longer.” Potter nods in agreement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright. Well, listen. We can talk more tomorrow. We have more questions, but none we want to get to tonight. We don’t have any spare tents, but—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have one.” Draco cuts him off, gesturing to his bag. Luna stands up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll show you where you can set it up.” she offers. Astoria glances at her and nods, a little stiffly. Draco hides his smirk behind his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luna leads them out and several people clamber up to her wanting answers. She raises her hand and says firmly “Harry says they are staying.” And, with that, they all disperse, though many of them throw mistrustful looks in his direction. They don’t pay much attention to Astoria, which he is grateful for. He doesn’t want her to face a whole camp of people who didn't like her on his account. Luna leads them to a space on the opposite end of the clearing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here. It’s quite a nice spot. Free of nargles.” Draco shakes his head and reaches into his bag, pulling out the tent. Luna takes it from him, and uses her wand to set it up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once she’s done she turns to him, giving him another hug. “I’m so glad you’re here.” she tells him. Draco grins at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Well. I’m not sure everyone else is.” Draco commented. Luna shook her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It will get better.” Luna lets go of him and smiles at Astoria, who had taken several steps back, trying to give them space. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad you’re here too. Draco is so disagreeable that I’m glad he has found someone who will put up with him.” She says it so flatly, as if commenting on the weather, that Astoria gives a startled laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco ducks into the tent, pulling Astoria after him once Luna leaves. It’s on the smaller side. A small table with two chairs, and a narrow bed are all that lies inside, and Draco turns to Astoria. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We made it.” he whispers. Astoria nods, smiling. He takes a step toward her, pulling her to him. He kisses her softly, his hands winding around her waist, tugging her closer still. She sighs into him and he is so relieved. So relieved that she is here and he is here, and that they are finally, finally safe. Or, as safe as they can possibly be all things considered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She is alive and he can feel her heartbeat against his chest. She is here and he wants to drink her in, remind himself that she’s okay, they're okay. Despite the fact that he is more exhausted than he has ever been in his life, he wants her beyond belief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulls back, and stares into her eyes. “Are you tired?” he murmurs. She laughs softly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A little.” She pushes herself up onto the tips of her toes, pressing her lips to his. Her hands are moving up the planes of his chest to curve around his shoulders, before sliding up into his hair. He groans into her mouth and presses  forward, until he can feel every contour, every curve of her body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands are gripping her waist and he slides them up to her chest, smiling against her lips when she gasps into him. He pulls back. “Are you sure you're not tired?” He is teasing her, eyes roving her frame, her flushed cheeks, wide eyes, and heaving chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not anymore.” she whispers, looking down, smiling shyly. He pushes her backwards, using his hand to tilt her face up towards him, kissing her again, tugging her bottom lip in between his teeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No?” he asks, lowly, smirking when she reaches the bed, her hand flying back to grip the mattress as if to brace herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” she murmurs, so softly he can barely hear her. “I’m wide awake.” she jokes, but her voice is high and breathless, shaking slightly. His lips crash onto hers again, somewhat feverishly, and she fists her hands in his shirt pulling him down on top of her, sighing when she is pressed between him and the narrow mattress. Her hands ghost downward, her fingertips brushing against the waistband of his jeans, and he whispers her name, his lips pressed to the shell of her ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can feel her, alive, and safe beneath him and after everything, it fills him with something almost venereous. </span>
  <span>It rises within him in an almost choking force, the urge to protect, the urge to wrap himself around her, shield her, claim her, something, anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco.” she calls, her voice winded enough that it sounds almost like a whine. “Please.” she whispers, burying her face into the crook of his neck. Her hands dip underneath the fabric of his shirt and he claims her lips roughly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you—” he begins, his own voice raspy as he pulls back. Astoria cuts him off, dragging him back down to her, slamming her lips against his, in a way that is very uncharacteristic of her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Clearly.” she whispers when she pulls back, a little dryly. He smirks and presses his lips to her throat. Very well then. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0070"><h2>70. Astoria</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Astoria wakes up to shouting and arguing outside, sounds of angry and indignant voices rousing her from her much needed, and in her opinion, well deserved sleep. </p><p>The bed is empty apart from her, causing her eyes, still filled with sleep, to roam the tent, a panicking feeling erupting in her chest. Draco is sitting at the small table, staring at his shoes. When she sees him, she sighs in relief. Draco notices that she is awake and gives her a small smile. Astoria sits up and stretches, and Draco’s smile morphs into a devious smirk. Astoria remembers that she isn’t currently wearing clothes, and on instinct, yanks the covers over her chest. </p><p>The shouting outside intensifies, and Astoria frowns. “What’s going on?” she asks, hating how fearful her voice sounds. Draco shakes his head. </p><p>“I don’t know. They cast a spell, muffliato I think. I can hear them arguing but I can’t tell what they are saying.” Draco tells her, his voice also sounding strained. Astoria eyes her clothes that she knows had been carelessly thrown aside last night, but are now folded, somewhat neatly, on the foot of the bed. </p><p>“It’s about us.” she whispers. She doesn’t ask. What else could it possibly be about? Draco sighs heavily. </p><p>“Me. Not you.” Draco says, resting his head on his folded arms. Astoria frowns. </p><p>“Us. I’m afraid I’m your accomplice.” She tries to play it off as a joke, but she means it with absolute sincerity. </p><p>Draco lifts his head, staring at her a moment. She gets out of bed, trying not to blush, as she hurriedly pulls on her clothes. Draco doesn’t look away, and she smiles to herself. </p><p>“What?” Draco asks her, looking curiously at her expression. She buttons her jeans and pulls on her jumper. </p><p>“Nothing. Just...no one looks at me like that. It’s nice.” Astoria comments, shocking herself with her honesty. </p><p>“Good. I don’t want them to.” he says, tilting his head, smirking. Astoria grins and nods toward the tent, the flaps closed, sealing them from the world. </p><p>“Should we go outside?” Astoria asks. </p><p>“Luna told us to say inside until someone comes to get us.” Draco says, following her gaze. Astoria feels heat creep into her cheeks. Luna would have seen her half-naked in bed. That wasn’t exactly on Astoria’s list of ways to make a good impression. </p><p>“Oh.” she chokes out, going to sit in the chair across from Draco. He is watching the dust swirl in the sunlight that creeps in. He looks very handsome this morning. It’s a shame everyone is causing such a ruckus outside. It kills her mood. </p><p>They sit inside, in silence for several minutes, each trying to make out what is being said just outside their tent. Muffliato is made for whispers, not for shouting, and although Astoria can catch snatches of conversation, the spell does it’s job well enough that it isn’t anything Astoria can piece together.</p><p>Finally, the shouting stops. They wait a few moments. “Do you hear that?” Draco asks. Astoria listens hard. </p><p>“No.” she whispers, confused. </p><p>“Exactly.” Draco grins at her. Astoria shakes her head. </p><p>“I wouldn’t breathe easy just yet. They could have just gone to collect their pitchforks and torches.” Astoria quips, giving him a nervous smile that quickly fades. She fights to hide her anxious expression, but from Draco’s sigh, she can tell she failed. </p><p>“Come here.” he says, gesturing for her to come forward. Astoria stands, her chair sliding back across the ground, as she takes a few steps forward, until she stands in front of Draco’s chair. He grabs her hand, pulling her down on top of him, her legs hanging over the side of his knees, and his hand resting on her thigh. </p><p>“It’ll be fine. We’ll run. If we have to.” he says. </p><p>Astoria swallows. She is so tired of running. “I thought they said we could stay. I thought everything was okay last night.” Astoria whispers, letting her head drop to his shoulder. </p><p>“Potter said we could stay. I doubt, however, that he is the type to run a dictatorship. My guess is, now that it’s morning, a few are fighting him on it.” Draco says, gently. Astoria sighs. Of course. </p><p>“They won’t hurt us. It will be okay.” Draco assures her, his tone careful. Astoria hopes the Order is as good as everyone says they are. She wraps her arms around his middle, and he presses his lips to the top of her head. </p><p>Astoria lifts her head and looks into his eyes. They remind her of quicksilver, and she grins before pressing her lips to his. He’s right. It will be okay. Draco deepens the kiss and Astoria sighs softly. They break apart  however, when they hear a startled, severe sounding, cough. </p><p>Granger’s head is poking in the entrance to the tent, and she is giving them a disapproving look. Astoria leaps off of Draco, and he rolls his eyes at her. </p><p>“Astoria? Was it?” Granger asks, politely. Astoria bites her lip. </p><p>“Yes.” she mumbles.</p><p>“May I speak with you for a moment? If you don’t mind?” Astoria nods and Draco stands up. Granger eyes him and shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I meant alone.” </p><p>Astoria freezes. Maybe it’s stupid and a little irrational, but she doesn’t want to be alone with someone wandless. Especially not someone she doesn’t know well and doesn’t trust. Her muscles constrict painfully, reminding her of the transmogrification. Phantom tremors run down her spine and she feels like she might be sick. Draco puts a hand on her shoulder, steadying her. Granger takes a worried step forward, face etched with concern.</p><p>“Is she ill?” Granger asks, leaning forward. </p><p>“No. We’d prefer to stay together.” Draco says. Granger narrows her eyes at him, looking suspicious. </p><p>“I’m afraid that won’t be possible. She needs to come with me. Just for a while.” Granger says, not unkindly, but firmly. Astoria nods and steps forward. Draco shoots her a worried look. </p><p>“You don’t have to. If you don’t—” Draco tries, reaching for her. </p><p>“I’m fine.” Astoria cuts him off, though she doesn’t feel fine. If the Order needs to talk to her, however, she will talk to them. She doesn’t have much of a choice, and it’s imperative that they trust her. She knows that despite what Draco may say to reassure her, even if they leave, they don’t have a lot of options about where to go. </p><p>Granger gives her a tight smile, and steps outside, beckoning Astoria to follow her. Astoria does so, throwing one last look at Draco who gives her a meaningful look. Be careful. </p><p>When Astoria steps out, her gaze sweeps the clearing. There is no angry mob like she had been fearing, but instead, several small groups of people huddled together whispering. The tension in the air is thick, however, and Astoria can tell there was quite an argument among the group. That wasn’t good. If there was too much dissension, it would be all too easy to remove the variables that were causing it. Her and Draco.</p><p>Several people eye her suspiciously, some even tossing glares, or worried looks her way. She swallows nervously. Granger leads her back into Potter’s tent, across the clearing and Astoria ducks inside after her. </p><p>She expects a panel of people, similar to the one the night before, but the only other person in there was Ginny Weasley, who gives her a smile. </p><p>“Hey.” Astoria doesn’t respond. She can’t quite muster the energy. Granger is studying her and it makes her uncomfortable. If she turned around and ran, she wonders how long it would be before they cursed her. Her muscles clench, and Granger widens her eyes at the movement. </p><p>“Do you want to sit?” Ginny asks, and Astoria crosses the room, sinking into a worn chair. </p><p>“Do you need medical attention?” Granger asks, leaning forward. “You have a few bruises that haven’t healed yet.” Astoria shakes her head, shying away slightly from her outstretched hand. She feels embarrassed. She needs to collect herself. Granger isn’t in any way similar to Bellatrix Lestrange, and she takes a deep breath, reminding herself to stay calm. </p><p>“I wanted to speak to you in private. To see if there is anything you need that you wouldn’t want someone else to hear. Or, if there was something I could do. We could help you.” Granger says, earnestly. Ginny gives Granger a warning look and Astoria feels confused. </p><p>“Sorry?” she asks. </p><p>“We understand that you did what you had to, to survive. There is no shame in that. But, you don’t have to do that anymore.” Granger says, gently. Ginny crosses her arms, looking a little unsure. Astoria’s stomach clenches. </p><p>“What? No. I—” </p><p>“It’s okay. We aren’t Draco. You don’t have to pretend for us.” Granger says, softly. Astoria shakes her head, vehemently. </p><p>“No.” she says, firmly. “It isn’t like that. I swear. He...I. He isn’t hurting me or, or coercing me. We just…” Astoria paused. She wasn’t quite sure how to say this. “It’s genuine. At least on my part. I never did anything I didn’t want to do. He wouldn’t do that. I never pretended to have any sort of feelings I didn’t actually have. He wouldn’t kill me.” Astoria says, desperately. She wonders if that made sense. Hopefully. </p><p>“He wouldn’t?” Granger asks. How can Astoria explain that Snape had all but told her that Draco wasn’t a killer? How can Astoria explain, that although she was afraid, Draco had been mapped out for her through stories written in a journal that now lay in ashes at the bottom of a hearth. She knew him before she met him. </p><p>“No. He wouldn’t, and he can’t.” Astoria whispers. Granger shakes her head. “I’m serious. He hasn’t killed anyone. Ever. He can’t cast the curse.” Draco would hate her for saying that. But, it’s true. Granger frowns. </p><p>“Can’t?” </p><p>“Yes. That’s why...Remember when I told you that Snape told me some things? Before his death? Well, that was something he told me. That’s how I knew he could take the elder wand. That’s how I knew I trusted him.” Astoria says, urgently, leaning forward slightly. </p><p>Granger looks skeptical. “Who better to own that wand then someone who can’t kill?” Astoria asks. Granger sighs heavily. </p><p>“Okay. Well, if that’s what you have to say, then fine. I guess if you won’t tell us anything, then we can’t help you.” Astoria glares coldly. </p><p>“I can take care of myself. If there was a problem, I could handle it.” Astoria says, coolly. Astoria turns to look at Ginny who shakes her head. </p><p>“Is that all?” she asks. She is rather done with this conversation. Granger shakes her head. </p><p>“You tense up a lot. When someone comes near you. Why?” Granger must be too stubborn to let this go after all. </p><p>“Cursed. Lestrange.” is all Astoria says. It’s the truth. Not to mention, Rowle. Of course, she doesn’t remember that. She shakes her head, trying to clear the fog that has swept across her mind. </p><p>“Cruciatus?” Granger asks, sympathetically. Astoria shakes her head. </p><p>“I wish.” Astoria says, her fingers moving float along the arms of the chair. Granger eyes her fingers and Astoria stills them. </p><p>“What curse? Can we help you?” Granger asks, leaning forward, her eyes moving over Astoria, as if she could glean the curse with a thorough examination. Astoria swallows. </p><p>She has run her hands over her body several times, checking if anything was out of place. Everything felt normal. Everything looked normal. Granger coughs, as if reminding her to answer. </p><p>“No.” is all Astoria says. They can’t. She doesn’t want to tell them. She hadn’t seen the effects of the curse, but she could tell it had been bad. Draco had spent a lot of time looking at her in the past few days, running his hand down her frame, as if trying to assess if there was any damage. She assumed he never found any. </p><p>“No?” </p><p>“You can’t help me and I don't want to talk about it. All I know is, is that I got cursed trying to help you. So if you could be a little more grateful, it would be appreciated. If you actually want to defeat the Dark Lord, then you need to start seeking allies where you can.” Astoria says, evenly. Ginny scowls but Granger tilts her head thoughtfully. </p><p>“What do you mean, allies? Yourself?” </p><p>“Yes. But not just me. There are several people. Several witches and wizards back home who aren’t happy. If you reached out to them, they might help you.” Astoria says. It’s true. There are whispers. Whispers of dissension. </p><p>“Your father said as much. We’d assumed he was one of the only ones.” Ginny says, crossing the room to look out at the camp through an opening in the tent. Astoria wants to ask about her father, but she knows they aren’t going to tell her anything. </p><p>“There are half-bloods who would definitely help you. Several pure-bloods. Even ones that had supported the Dark Lord in the past. Even some of the Death Eaters. They aren’t good people. But they would fight with you. If they thought it would benefit them.” Astoria says, urgently. It’s the truth. She didn’t come here to hide in a clearing. “I know that it’s been difficult to act. I know that you are doing all you can, but you need help. This monster is too big for three people to take on alone. It was your mistake last time. Don’t make it again.” Granger narrows her eyes. Astoria wonders if she perhaps spoke to harshly. </p><p>“Why? Why would they overthrow him? How could it even be done? I’m willing to listen to what you have to say, but I find it unlikely these people would volunteer to help us.” Granger says. </p><p>Astoria takes a deep breath. “I can’t be sure they would. But, the Dark Lord gains his authority through fear. He has everyone convinced he is this immortal god, this conqueror of death. I mean, no one wants to fight him because they are afraid. But, if you could challenge that belief, if you were to spread what we all know to be true, then he wouldn’t be seen as immortal. He would be seen as beatable. When he no longer appears to be the most advantageous option, then the old families will side with you. Some of them, at least.” Granger leans backwards, rubbing her temples. </p><p>Ginny scoffs. “Advantageous? What about what’s right?” </p><p>“It’s a war. If you only let the virtuous fight for you, then you will lose. There aren’t enough of those people left. Despite what you think, Draco and I came here because we want to do what’s right. However, I can’t say many others would do the same. I can promise that their loyalty would be yours, if you prove to be the better option.” Astoria counters, calmly. They don’t say anything. “Listen, keeping the horcruxes a secret was a mistake. If those back home found out their god was a liar, that he had split his very soul, rather than having genuine immortality? They’d be angry.” Granger nods, as if Astoria just confirmed something she already knew to be true. </p><p>Granger frowns. “Our contact is coming today. We will speak with them, and then I will discuss what you said with the group. Do you know anyone who might be willing to help, off the top of your head?” </p><p>“The Macmillans. Maybe. My sister might. But, she can be difficult.” Astoria offers. “They can perhaps point you to others. More will join. You just have to get the ball rolling.” </p><p>Ginny nods. Granger stands and points toward the tent’s entrance. “You can go. Thank you.” Astoria nods. She exits and heads back across the clearing. Longbottom gives her a nasty look and Astoria wilts slightly. His face smooths into indifference once he sees her expression. </p><p>Astoria reaches her tent and ducks inside, nearly slamming into Harry Potter. She jumps back, turning scarlet. “Sorry. I’m sorry.” </p><p>“I was just leaving. Stay in here.” is all he says, before ducking around her. Draco scoffs at her and turns his head. </p><p>“What did he want?” she asks. Draco just shakes his head. </p><p>“More questions. Similar to last night. You?” Astoria doesn’t want to tell him what Granger or Ginny had said, so she just shrugs her shoulders. </p><p>“Same.” Her stomach twists slightly at the lie. She doesn’t want him to know they thought he might be hurting her. That would really upset him. “They said something about meeting with a contact though. I don’t know who that would be.” </p><p>Draco looks slightly interested, but says nothing. She can tell something is bothering him. “I told them that there might be others who would help them. Back home. It seems like more and more are starting to regret the decision to support the Dark Lord and it’s only been four years. The Reeducation Center is admitting more and more people. That means he is losing control. It has to.”</p><p>Draco sighs. “Yeah. Getting his wand taken won’t help his image either. That’s bound to instill doubt.” Astoria grins. “Hey. Um. I wanted to mention this. We probably shouldn’t call him the Dark Lord. Doesn’t exactly help us, out there.” Draco says. Astoria nods. He’s right. </p><p>“Good idea.” she says, a little sheepishly. She probably should have thought of that on her own. </p><p>Draco and her do not leave the tent all morning or all afternoon. They eat more granola bars, which Astoria is fine with. She quite likes them. They don’t make much conversation, and Draco finally stands and collapses on the bed, mumbling something about a nap. He lifts his head after a few moments. </p><p>“Aren’t you coming?” Astoria is surprised by the question. </p><p>“Not tired. I’ll come and sit with you.” Astoria offers, standing up and sitting down next to him, her legs stretched out in front of her. After a few hours, Luna comes in, and Draco wakes immediately, sitting up at the sound of even the quietest footsteps. </p><p>“Hey.” he says to her, smiling a little. </p><p>“You can come out now. Sorry it’s been so long. Everyone has been quite jumpy lately. I’m not sure why.” Astoria had a few ideas. Luna turns to her and gives her a sympathetic look. “The contact is here. He has some news you may want to hear.” Astoria’s stomach drops immediately. Something has happened. Draco meets her eye and they share an apprehensive look. </p><p>She scrambles out of bed, nearly tripping and falling flat on her face. Draco grabs her by the back of her shirt, hauling her up, keeping her from toppling over. </p><p>“Easy.” he says. She shrugs out of his grip, and she tears out the tent entrance. Something she would want to hear? That could only mean one thing. </p><p>A tall, handsome, dark-skinned man who Astoria vaguely recognized is standing in the middle of the clearing, and he is smoking a muggle cigarette. Several people throw him suspicious glances. He is talking with Potter, Granger, and Weasley, who don't look pleased. </p><p>Draco walks out behind her, and when the man sees him, he grins. “They told me, but I didn’t believe it.” </p><p>Draco smirks. “What are you doing here?” Astoria looks between them. Draco turns to her. “Zabini.” he whispers. Understanding flits across her features as she turns back toward Zabini. She knew she recognized him from somewhere. Zabini looks at her, and his expression falls. </p><p>“Astoria, right?” he says. </p><p>“What happened?” she whispers. Everyone is staring at her and she wants to sink into the ground, perhaps disappearing. It is too many eyes, too many faces peering at her. Draco puts his hand on her arm, lightly. Her fingers jitter and run over the fabric of her sleeves. She has felt the fabric too many times before already, and it does little to ground her. </p><p>“Let’s talk. In private.” The group surveying them groans at Zabini’s words. Potter, Granger, and Weasley are looking at her, somewhat sympathetically. </p><p>They head towards Potter’s tent, a place Astoria is beginning not to like. It seems to be a place where bad conversations happen. Zabini claps Draco on the back once everyone enters the tent, giving him a sly grin. </p><p>“Well. You’ve been busy, friend. It’s all anyone’s been able to talk about. The Dark Lord is threatening to put a Taboo on your name. To shut everyone up.” Draco laughs, but it was slightly strained, his eyes still on Astoria. </p><p>“What happened?” Astoria repeats. Zabini gestures to the chair, but she ignores him. She doesn’t want to sit. “Tell me.” she pleads softly. </p><p>Zabini just reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a newspaper. The Daily Prophet. Astoria grabs for it, and opens it up, reading the headline. </p><p>
  <b> <em>Daphne Greengrass Accused of Conspiring Against the Dark Lord </em> </b>
</p><p>Astoria gasps, and keeps reading, eyes darting across the page frantically. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Daphne Greengrass, well-known socialite, has been accused of colluding with her late husband, Theodore Nott, who was executed by Bellatrix Lestrange after he was confirmed to be involved in a plot to usurp the Dark Lord. Daphne Greengrass, originally thought to be innocent, was admitted to the Pureblood Reeducation Center, where she is currently being held. However, after an interrogation with Rodolphus Lestrange, she was found to be implicated in her husband’s plans. Her trial is set for three weeks from today, with Bellatrix Lestrange herself to oversee the sentencing. Madame Lestrange assures the Prophet that justice will be swift and deadly... </em>
</p><p>Astoria moans, the paper falling from her hands. She sinks to the floor, falling to her knees. Oh god. What had she done? She hadn’t thought...How could she have let this happen? Draco calls out her name, sounding alarmed. He reaches for the paper, his eyes scanning over it. </p><p>“Shit. Astoria, I’m so sorry.” He kneels down beside her, his hand on her shoulder. She reaches for him, tucking her head into his shoulder. She can’t do this. Her sister is going to be killed and it’s all her fault. She has to do something. </p><p>“I have to get her. I have to go to her.” she says. Draco’s grip tightens on her arm tightens.  </p><p>“Astoria, we can’t. You know that. I’m pretty sure we may be wanted more than Potter himself at this point. We can’t feasibly get your sister out. They’d kill us on sight.” Draco argues, though his tone is gentle. Astoria knows he is right and it kills her. She is debating whether or not it is worth it to go. </p><p>“I could go. You could stay here.” Astoria offers, though her heart clenches at the thought. </p><p>Granger shakes her head, and opens her mouth. Astoria had forgotten they were in the room, and it fills her with an irrational anger that she fights to shove down. “No point. Malfoy is right. You go and you both die. Would your sister want that?” </p><p>Astoria shakes her head miserably. She wants to lie down. Draco hauls her up, and she stands with him. He leads her to a chair and pushes her down in it, before he takes the seat next to hers. Her fingers skitter wildly across the arms of the chair and Weasley raises his eyebrows. She tries to still them, but her hands shake. Draco grabs one, holding it tight, trying to quell the tremors. </p><p>“You have to get her out. You have to.” Astoria begs. “I can’t go, but one of you could.” They all share uncomfortable looks. Astoria sighs. Of course they won’t go. She hears a dark laugh and she turns her head. Longbottom is sitting there, shaking his head. Astoria hadn’t even realized he was in the room. </p><p>“Really? Sorry to burst your bubble, but we can’t afford to go on rescue missions. Especially not for Daphne Greengrass.” he says. </p><p>“Unnecessary, Longbottom.” Draco snarls. But true, Astoria realizes. Tears begin to prick her eyes and she presses her tongue to the roof of her mouth, attempting to stop them. It works, thankfully. She will cry later. Right now, she has to make her sister valuable. She has to make her sister worth it. </p><p>“No. Listen. She is in the Reeducation Center. Are you aware what that is?” Astoria says, cursing the way her voice sounds high, and the way it trembles. </p><p>Potter nods. “Zabini has mentioned it. He became our contact three years ago. Ginny met him in the Black Market. Since then, he has told us a bit about it.” </p><p>“It’s full of witches and wizards. They are there because they have been found to disagree with the Ministry, or the Death Eaters, or both. The point is, if you could free them, you could double your numbers, maybe even triple them. They might be willing to fight for you.” Astoria pleads. Granger raises her eyebrows. Good. She is intrigued. If Granger thinks it’s a good idea, the rest will. </p><p>Draco tenses beside her. It’s a bold thing to say. </p><p>“The center isn’t well-guarded. It might be more so, now that they have Daphne there. If they are expecting me to come after her. But, it wouldn’t be that hard to break in. You’d help a lot of people.” Astoria says, trying to force her voice to stay calm. She needs the idea to sound reasonable. </p><p>“Even if we can get in, how do we get that many people out? And across the country, and then overseas? It won’t be possible.” Weasley counters, crossing his arms. He does give her an apologetic look. </p><p>Astoria sighs, the tears threatening to return. Draco turns his head to look at her, before saying. </p><p>“A few at a time, then. Slowly smuggle them out.” he suggests. Astoria is grateful he is trying to help, even though she can tell he isn’t sure her idea is a good one. </p><p>“That might work. Except Greengrass is a high-profile prisoner. If we take her, they will guard the Center heavily after that.” Longbottom adds, scathingly. </p><p>“No. You’d still do it all in one night. Just leave in small groups.” Draco argues. </p><p>Longbottom shakes his head in disgust, but doesn’t argue. Zabini ran his hands over his face. </p><p>“Look. Daphne is the only one they are killing. The rest of the people in the Center live okay lives. It’s a prison sure, but it’s a pretty sweet one. No one stays there forever. You could just get Daphne out.” Zabini mentions. </p><p>Granger shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Astoria. Really. But we can’t risk anyone here for just one person.” </p><p>“Then don’t just take one person. Get them out. You need an army. You don’t have one.” Astoria argues. </p><p>“There is no guarantee they’d even fight.” Longbottom said. Astoria turned to look at him. </p><p>“And what? You all are fighting? Because it seems to me, like you all want to hide and lick your wounds.” Astoria shot back. Longbottom shot to his feet and took a step toward her. Draco stands, angling himself between them. </p><p>“Enough.” Draco says, his tone deadly. </p><p>“I think we should do it.” Potter says. Granger groans. </p><p>“Harry—” </p><p>“No. I’ve been trying to do something for years now. But all everyone says is to wait, to bide our time. Well, she is right. We’ve hidden long enough. Our numbers aren’t going to grow if we don’t do something.” Harry says, urgently, turning to face Granger. </p><p>Granger and Weasley share a look, but don’t say anything. Granger turns back toward Harry and says, “Neville has a point. We can’t ensure that they will all fight. We can’t bring them here, if they might betray us.” </p><p>“Bring them to the Black Market. If they are willing to fight, bring them here. If not, leave them at the Market.” Astoria offers. It’s a good idea, in her opinion. Get them to the Black Market, and if their loyalty can be ensured, take them to the camp. “The Black Market is big enough for everyone to stay there a couple days while you tried to recruit. It’s also a place where Death Eaters, or at least the loyal ones, wouldn’t be poking around.” Astoria says. Granger gives her a resigned look. </p><p>Potter nods. “See? That’s good. We can do that. I’ll go.” Granger shakes her head wildly. </p><p>“No. Absolutely not. No one high profile is going. No one who is high on their list. Not you, not Ron, not me. And definitely not Malfoy and Astoria. We are far too recognizable, and I’m sure the elder wand thieves have their wanted posters slapped on every wall in Britain.” </p><p>“I’ll go.” Longbottom stands up. Astoria glances at him, surprised. </p><p>“You were so against the idea.” Astoria says, suspiciously. </p><p>“I still am. But, if Harry wants to do it, I’ll go. I mean, I’m the only one who is capable of leading a mission of that caliber who can actually leave the camp.” Astoria frowns. She can’t say she quite agrees, but Weasley nods in agreement. Potter gives a disappointed sigh, but relents. </p><p>Granger turns toward Zabini. “Can you help? I’m not asking you to actually work the mission, but do you have any sort of information that might be useful?” </p><p>“No. I don’t. It’s like I’ve been telling you. I can give you bits of news that are common knowledge, but I don’t have any access to information that’s anything beyond what a regular citizen would know.” Zabini says, shaking his head. </p><p>“Don’t you have friends who might? Can’t you keep your ear low to the ground?”  Granger pleads. “This isn’t just about this mission, it’s also why we’ve been so restricted in the past. We haven’t been able to make any moves because we had no way of obtaining inside information. If you have friends who would tell you something in confidence, something you could relay back to us…” </p><p>Zabini holds his hands up, exasperated. “No. Sorry. I hate to say it, but my friends and I are lesser-purebloods. Not Twenty-Eight, I mean. I might get invited to the occasional ball, but the old families aren’t inviting me to any intimate dinner parties, ones where they might divulge information in casual conversation. You need someone with a bigger, more important name.” Zabini argues. Astoria can tell this is a conversation they’ve had before. </p><p>“Pansy.” Draco offers. Everyone turns to look at him, and Granger wrinkles her nose.</p><p>“Parkinson? No.” Weasley says, laughing. </p><p>“Macmillan now, actually. But, she would help you. Possibly. She runs in those circles, though not much anymore. But that’s by her own choice. She still gets invited to nearly every party. She can talk to Death Eaters and Ministry officials. She is good at it, I’m telling you.” Draco defends. </p><p>“I don’t know. I appreciate that you are here, and what you’ve done. I mean that. But, I’m hesitant to trust the same people that were willing to throw us under the bus a short time ago. I know you are her friend. But, she was all too willing to hand me over to the Dark Lord the night of the Battle. Maybe she was just trying to save her own skin, but that’s the kind of attitude we can’t have for a contact.” Potter says. He runs a hand through his long hair and sighs. </p><p>“Look. Don’t let her have any direct contact with anyone here. Not unless she proves to be trustworthy. Any information she has, she could relay to me. I could give you reports of what she was able to find out. It’s worth a shot, and I don’t know of anyone else who has the access to that kind of information, and would be willing to help.”  Zabini offers, rather earnestly. </p><p>“We will talk about it. Listen, Malfoy. Greengrass. Why don’t you take your wands and let us talk. We will let you know about Daphne, yeah?” Potter says, gesturing to the table. Astoria spies her wand on the table. She grabs it and tosses Draco his. He looks like he wants to argue about being told to leave, but Astoria reaches for his arm, pulling him out of the tent. </p><p>They walk quietly, ignoring the whispers and accusatory stares. Draco holds the tent open for her when they reach it, and she ducks in under his arm. When they are inside, he turns to her, and asks “Are you okay?” </p><p>Astoria shakes her head. No. She isn’t. Tears spring to her eyes, and she doesn’t have the energy to stop them anymore. Draco looks slightly panicked, as he always does when she starts crying, but he reaches for her and Astoria clings to him. </p><p>“I’m sorry. I really thought they would leave her alone. I’m so sorry.” Draco whispers. Astoria doesn’t answer, but she shakes her head, and Draco wraps his arms tighter around her. </p><p>Astoria allows herself a few minutes to cry, before she pulls back. She wipes her eyes furiously and she goes to the bed, laying down on top of it. Crying won’t help her sister. She needs them to say yes. She needs them to go after her. If they don’t, she will. </p><p>She feels Draco’s weight settle in beside her. “Astoria?” he whispers, his fingers brushing her hair out of her face. </p><p>“Yes?” she says, her voice thick with tears. </p><p>“Can I…” his voice trails off. Can he what? Do anything? No. He can’t. She can’t. And that’s what makes it all so awful. </p><p>“No. But that’s okay.” Even though it isn’t. She pulls herself close to him. He quickly drapes an arm over her. Neither of them sleep. They lay there, waiting for an answer. All Astoria knows is that someone is going after her sister. If it has to be her, it will be. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0071"><h2>71. Pansy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Pansy stands outside of the Reeducation Center, arguing with a pair of bonehead guards that she knows by name: Hobday and Cole. It’s the third day she has tried to get in, and she came today, determined not to take no for an answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is ridiculous. I’m not standing for this. Visitors have always been allowed in. Why not now?” Pansy argues, angrily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hobday throws his head back, groaning in frustration. “You know why. A prisoner is being kept here. We can’t just let you in. Especially to visit Greengrass.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said I’m not here to see her. I want to see Ms. Black.” That was a lie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can’t let anyone in. It doesn’t matter who you are here to see.” the other guard says, tone pleading. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s fine. I’ll just sit out here until you do. Maybe I’ll send for my father. You know, he is quite high in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. One word to the Death Eaters…” Pansy trails off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on. You know we can’t let you in. The Death Eaters aren’t siding with you on this one.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy bites her lip. Damnit. Pansy takes a deep breath. If she has to cast the Imperius curse, she will. “Gentlemen. Do you really believe that I mean any ill will? You know that I would not ask if it was not of the utmost importance. I just need you to trust me.” Pansy simpers. It is said in a whiny, pleading, almost sultry tone that should work. It has to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The guards share a look, clearly wishing they could say yes. “Ma’am. If we let you in and someone found out, we’d be killed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy will have to use threats. She is not above it, but she prefers asking nicely. At first, anyway. “I didn’t want it to come to this. Hobday, I know you frequent muggle brothels. Unless you want the Ministry to know you dip your tip in the mud, then I suggest you let me inside.” Pansy says, turning to the first guard. “And Cole. I heard you are having an affair. Wonder what your wife would think?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stunned, fearful silence. Good. If blackmail gets the job done, then blackmail she will use. She wouldn’t really rat them out, but they don’t need to know that. Hobday sighs and steps aside, letting Pansy through. Cole looks like he wants to argue, but instead, all he says is, “Five minutes. Any more and we come in to get you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy darts up the many stone steps and walks into the bright, clean, lobby. Marietta is sitting behind the desk, nervously looking out the window. When Pansy enters she looks over, and when she sees her, she immediately relaxes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Pansy. Thank goodness. Thought you were Lestrange.” Marietta says, her hands trembling slightly as she taps a quill against the desk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Careful. Don’t want to sound like you don’t like the man.” Pansy raises her eyebrows. She likes Marietta, and she needs to learn to be more cautious. Pansy wouldn’t report her, but someone might. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh no. I do! I just...well. Nevermind. What are you doing here anyway? You're not supposed to be here.” Marietta says, anxiously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And yet, here I am. I’ll be down in five minutes. That’s all I need.” Pansy replies, crossing the lobby, heels clicking on the white marble floors. As Pansy starts up the stairs, she turns to Marietta, who looks about two seconds away from bursting into tears, and says, “Relax. If Lestrange comes, I’ll say I used a disillusionment charm. You’ll be off the hook.” Marietta smiles gratefully, and Pansy doesn’t think to mention that Marietta’s occlumency is weak enough that Rodolphus would find out the answers he wanted regardless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy reaches the floor where the sitting room, the music room, and the library are. She has to duck into the library to avoid two guards walking down the richly carpeted hallway. When they pass, she pokes her head out, looking left and right, before crossing the hallway to check in the sitting room. A disillusionment charm might not be such a bad idea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the sitting room, she finds several scared looking patients, who are eyeing the windows nervously. A few recognise her from when she used to work here, and though they give her cautionary looks, none of them alert the guards. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She spies Daphne, sitting in a window seat, next to an apparent and unlikely friend. She crosses the room quietly, dodging  two young men playing a round of exploding snap, and three girls watching two others play wizarding chess. Most of the patients must be hiding in their rooms, likely afraid of all the guards, and sudden increase in security. Pansy was surprised Daphne was even allowed to be sitting here. Then again, Daphne always knew how to get what she wanted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daphne.” Pansy hisses, once she reaches the window seat. Daphne looks up, surprised, before leaping up and giving Pansy a hug. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh thank Merlin. I can’t believe you are here! You were supposed to be here ages ago.” Daphne complains. Pansy hugs her back, giving a small smile to Andromeda over Daphne’s shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is the first I could get in. We need to talk. Somewhere private.” Pansy says, eyeing the patients in the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne nods. “Let’s go to my room. Andromeda, come with us.” Pansy is surprised at Daphne’s inclusion of Andromeda, but she chooses to keep her thoughts quiet. Daphne leads them out of the room and toward the staircase, climbing until they reach the top floor. Daphne looks around, and spies two guards standing at the end of the hallway. She gestures with her head, and ducks into the first door, which is an empty supply closet. Pansy crowds in and Andromeda walks in after her. Daphne squeezes inside, shutting the door softly behind them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice room.” Pansy comments, after casting Muffliato, and turning to face Daphne. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This isn’t my room. We couldn’t get to it without passing the guards.” Daphne sniffs, crossing her arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hear you planned to overthrow the Dark Lord.” Pansy says, leaning against a shelf full of cleaning supplies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne shakes her head, scoffing. “Yes, yes. I read the papers you know. The new theory is that I knew my sister’s plans and helped her escape. Which is ridiculous, as I was already locked up here that night. I never imagined she would do something like this. I mean, Ast—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Careful. Don’t say their names. Taboo. The Dark Lord doesn’t want anyone to talk about it.” Pansy reminds her friend. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andromeda snorts. “I don’t know why he bothers with the Taboo. I mean, everyone knows what happened. It’s embarrassing, really.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s true, and probably exactly why the Dark Lord instituted the Taboo. Pansy can tell Ernie is excited about what happened. Pansy just hopes her two friends can manage to keep from getting caught. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have long. I can’t get you out of here, Daph. I’ve tried. What I can do is try to appeal to Bellatrix’s better nature.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andromeda shakes her head. “My sister doesn’t have a better nature.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She does if someone offers her a good deal. I just have to figure out what that is.” Pansy insists. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” Daphne shakes her head emphatically. “You can’t do that. That is an awful idea. Seriously. Don’t make any deals with the Lestranges on my behalf.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy sighs. “Sit tight. I’ll see what I can do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andromeda says, “You need to go. I thought you said you only had five minutes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy nods, squeezing Daphne goodbye before she leaves, exiting the supply closet and hurrying downstairs. Marietta sighs in relief as Pansy exits the building and as she passes the guards they look similarly solaced. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy apparates to her home, appearing on her front step. She enters, heading toward Ernie’s study. She knocks on the door, and hears a “Yeah!” That is her invitation to enter, and so opens the door, stepping in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey. Did you get to see her?” Ernie asks, when Pansy walks in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I did. She is in surprisingly good spirits. I think she is just so relieved that her sister is alive and away that she can’t be too upset about her own bad lot.” Pansy sinks into an armchair, rubbing her temples. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But, I’m pretty sure there is no getting her out of there. Not without doing something illegal,” Pansy moans, burying her face in her hands. Ernie comes to stand behind her, his hands smoothing down her shoulders comfortingly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey. We’ll try what we can. I’ll help you.” Ernie kisses the top of her head. He walks around to lean against the desk, using his wand to drag her chair closer to him. “We </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> do something illegal.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy pictures it, for a moment. In one image, Ernie, Daphne, and herself are living on a beach somewhere, laughing at their great escape. In another, Daphne receives a death far worse then the one she is already destined for, and Ernie is killed, after being morbidly hurt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I can’t—” She can’t risk him. “Daphne wouldn’t go.” This is also true. Ernie nods, his knees brushing against hers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. If that’s what you think is best.” Ernie’s tone is guarded. Pansy looks up, finding that he is displeased. She can tell, as always, he wants to take action. He wants to do something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ernie. We can’t. We are the first people they’d suspect. They would hunt us down. Kill us. That is a move too bold for us to make.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t you tired? Of doing nothing?” Ernie gently takes her face in his hands, leaning down, forcing her to meet his gaze. Pansy closes her eyes, shutting him out. She is tired of doing nothing, just not tired enough to lose him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I’m not brave. You know that.” Pansy pleads with him to understand. She wishes she could tell him that she is scared to lose him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could be,” Ernie murmurs, urgently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I couldn’t.” Pansy feels Ernie drop her face, and feels him leave her side. She doesn’t open her eyes. She doesn’t want to see his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well I am done doing nothing, Pansy. I’m done waiting.” Ermine leaves, the door slamming after him. Pansy waits until she is sure he is gone, before curling up in the chair, and sobbing. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Pansy didn’t realize she had fallen asleep. She wakes up, finding it dark outside. She sighs, running her hand over her face. It is still slightly puffy from crying. She should go find Ernie, apologize. Maybe she can tell him about her plans to lobby for Daphne, using good, old-fashioned, dirty politics. Ernie might not think it the most noble of plans, but he might appreciate her way of doing things. He usually came around.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stands, rubbing sleep out of her eyes, and she exits the study. The house is dark and cold, which she finds odd. Ernie always made sure fires were burning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She checks every room in the house, growing more and more frantic. Ernie is gone. She calls for him, even checks in the garden, though she knows he never goes back there. He never answers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her first thought is that she has made some Death Eater angry, and they have taken Ernie. Her next thought, the one that terrifies her, is that he has left. He said he was tired of nothing. And so, he left. Whether to go on the run, to find the order, or just to the next town over, she doesn’t know. Tired of nothing. Tired of her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She quickly walks back to their bedroom, and throws the door of their closet open. His belongings, clothes, shoes, socks, are gone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She goes back to the parlor, sitting down in the dark room, sighing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She is eyeing the “empty” liquor cabinet, when she hears someone clear their throat. She reaches for her wand, head whipping toward the sound. When she sees who it is, she relaxes. She hasn’t seen Blaise in years, but even she knows he never knocks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Zabini,” Pansy greets, glumly. Blaise gives her a smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Parkinson. Why the long face? Oh, I suppose it’s Macmillan now.” Zabini jokes. Pansy doesn’t laugh. Not for much longer, it isn’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t matter. What are you here for? It’s nearly ten o’clock at night.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here for you. To talk. I have a proposition for you.” Zabini takes a seat beside her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something for work? Gringrots? Tell the goblins I said no. Stay out of my vault,” Pansy says, tone dead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I need you to swear an Unbreakable Vow.” Zabini gives her a wicked grin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” Pansy doesn’t even hesitate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then I can’t tell you what the proposition is.” Zabini is trying to bait her. Like she gives a fuck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then, I guess I won’t get to hear it. Get out, Zabini.” She wants him to leave. Now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pansy. Seriously?” Zabini gives her a pleading look. She can tell this conversation isn’t going how he planned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t do Unbreakable Vows. So, if it's really important, you’ll just have to trust me.” Normally, Pansy would have to feign boredom, but right now, it is hard to muster the urge to care about anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Spy for the Order,” Zabini suggests, as if telling her to order the baked chicken at a restaurant. Pansy looks at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t say it again.” Zabini leans forward, his dark eyes wild looking. Pansy stands, putting distance between them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you lost your mind? No. Get out of my house. I mean it.” Pansy turns her back to him, her heart pounding. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pansy. Come on. All the cool kids are doing it!” Zabini jokes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh really? Like who?” Pansy snorts in derision. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me. Malfoy. Greengrass. The little one that is.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They are on the run, not spying. That’s different. And for the record, as much as I love them, they aren’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>cool.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Neither are you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, Pansy. I’m spying for them, but I don’t have the connections you do, the skills you do, the blackmail. What you pulled on those guards today? Impressive.” Zabini stands, now grabbing her shoulders, forcing her to face him, before letting go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were following me? Fuck you,” Pansy hissed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. I was. You have got to understand the kind of access to information you have. Doors open for you that won’t open for me,” Zabini insists. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pansy. Please. What do you want? I’ll do my best to get it for you.” Zabini leans forward, grabbing her hand. Pansy swallows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daphne. Can the Order help her?” Zabini laughs, looking as if he knows something she doesn’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a deal, then. Make the vow, promise to help the Order. Daphne walks free.” Zabini pulls out his wand, dragging the tip up and down her forearm, though he murmurs no spell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, she thinks about refusing. If she was caught spying, they’d kill her, painfully. Ernie would suffer the same fate. But, Ernie is gone. If all she has to protect is herself, then it is worth the risk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zabini, as if sensing her thoughts says, “I was with the Order. I saw your husband there.” His wand digs, harder, though not exactly painfully, into the sensitive skin of the inside of her wrist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy’s heart twists. How had he found them so fast? He must have already known where they were. He must have been ready to leave for days. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll spy. No vow, though,” Pansy offers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zabnini looks entirely unbothered. “Now vow, we don’t help Daphne. Simple as that.” Pansy sighs, biting her lip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zabini grasps her right hand, tracing his wand along her forearm, murmuring an incantation that causes a red-hot stream of light to wrap around her and Zabini’s clasped hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We need a witness,” Pansy says. Zabini nods, snapping his fingers. A house-elf appears, wearing a newsboy cap. Zabini nods his head to their clasped hands, and the elf nods solemnly, understanding immediately. The house-elf grabs Zabini’s wand, holding it to her forearm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you swear, to do whatever is in your power, to serve and protect the Order of the Phoenix? And promise, to always act in the best interest of the Order of the Phoenix?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy hesitates. “I do.” Her arm burns as the tendril wraps around her arm, impossibly tight. It is then, that she perhaps realizes she has done something very foolish. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zabini releases her, and Pansy’s arm drops to her side, hanging limp. Zabini grabs his wand from the elf, giving her a grin. The elf disappears with a crack, and Zabini says, “Pleasure doing business with you.” Pansy doesn’t reply, as she sinks back into the chair, feeling numb. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now. I’ll be in touch soon, with assignments, information that we need, things like that. In the meantime, search for anything you can give me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine. Daphne. When can you get her out?” Pansy’s voice surprises her with how lifeless and flat it sounds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tomorrow night. In the meantime, tell me everything you learned when you were inside the Center. What did you see? What was security like?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy sighs and rubs her temples. She has to remember. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Zabini left nearly thirty minutes ago. Pansy still sits in the parlor, stunned by her own choices. A door opens behind her, and she leaps to her feet, her hand going toward her wand, pointing it at the doorway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pansy! What are you doing awake?” Ernie. Pansy says nothing, her throat dry. “Hey, calm down. What happened? Why are you sitting in the dark?” He takes a step forward, hands raised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing here? You left!” Pansy is getting a very awful feeling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I did. I left you a note. Why don’t you just lower your wand, okay?” Pansy lowers her wand, though she doesn’t let go of it. Ernie waves his wand, and lights the fire, filling the room with an orange glow. Now, she can see clearly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What note? There was no note.” Pansy is breathing hard, and she has to force herself to take deep, slow, breaths. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, there was. I left it taped to the door of the study.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t there.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pansy. I left a note.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your clothes were gone. Everything was gone,” Pansy argues, shaking her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ernie frowns and turns, exiting the room. “Come on. Let’s check it out.” Pansy follows him, worriedly checking every dark corner as they walk down the hallway and climb the stairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ernie opens the door to their room, moving toward the closet. He opens it, and his mouth drops open. “Holy shit. Pansy, everything’s gone.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know that! I told you that!” Pansy sits down on the bed. She fears she already knows what just happened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t take them. I swear. Were we robbed? Is that why you’re so shaken up?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Ernie. You have no idea,” Pansy chokes. Ernie’s expression turns dark. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pansy, did someone hurt you?” Pansy groans and her head falls into her hands. How could she have been so stupid? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where were you? Ernie, where were you?” Pansy grabs at her hair. Ernie walks toward her, sitting down beside her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like the note said, I was at Zacharious Smith’s house. He said he needed help with some cornish pixies that had gotten loose in his flat. You know how those things are, they take hours. Said his friend, I forgot his name, but I think he was in Slytherin. Your year maybe? Anyway, he said his friend let them loose as a prank.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy’s blood ran cold. She had been played for a fool. There was no other word for it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Zabini,” she breathes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah! That was him!” A pause. “Pansy, you need to tell me what happened. Did someone break in? Did they...did they hurt you?” Ernie wraps an arm around her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy is suddenly very angry. She stands up, wrenching away. “I’ll tell you what’s happened! I’ll tell you, alright! Do you have any idea what I’ve just done?” Ernie stares at her, slack-jawed, clearly stunned at her sudden outburst. “I joined the Order, Ernie. Not just joined, I bound myself to it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pansy? You joined the Order? Were they here?” Ernie is excited, looking around the room, as if Potter himself were going to leap out from under the bed, shouting: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Surprise!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh don’t get excited. It wasn’t any of your nasty little friends, though I’m sure they had something to do with it.” Ernie flinches and takes a deep breath. He is patient, which infuriates her. She wants to fight, she wants to scream. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay. Calm down, just tell me what happened. Start to finish.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy takes a deep breath. “I woke up, I don’t know, maybe an hour ago. The house was dark, and quiet. There was no note, no anything. I looked for you everywhere, but you weren’t there. I came up here, checked the closet, and everything was gone. I thought, after our fight, you’d left.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Left? Like for good?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Pansy. I said I wouldn’t.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. That’s what made it so infuriating.” Pansy turns away from him, hiding her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what happened?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I went downstairs, and sitting in the parlor, was Zabini. He said he had to talk to me. Long story short, he told me you left to stay with the Order.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you joined to follow me?” She can’t see Ernie, her back still to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you daft idiot! They wanted me to spy for them. I said no, but they promised me, if I did, they would get Daphne out. So, since I thought I didn’t have to worry about keeping you safe anymore, I joined!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Joined? To spy? That’s great!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I made the Unbreakable Vow, Ernie.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But, that’s unbreakable.” Pansy turns to face him, glaring. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Obviously. I suppose if you were a member of the D.A they’ll just take your word, but if you're like me, they make you sign your life away to help a friend!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ernie stands up, running his hands over his face. “So you were tricked. Zabini made sure I was distracted, just long enough to lure you in. Pansy, I’m sorry. I had no idea they were desperate enough to resort to those kinds of tactics,” Ernie whispers. He crosses over to her, an expression of disgust on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy shakes her head. “No going back now. It’s my own damn fault. I knew better than this. At least, they are better than the Dark Lord.” Ernie laughs mirthlessly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stands in front of her, and wraps his arms around her waist. “I’m not leaving, Pansy. We’ll do this together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy sighs, letting her head fall against his chest. “We’ll have to get you new clothes.” Ernie hums in agreement. She can feel the vibrations in his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not leaving you,” he whispers, a few moments later. Pansy screws her eyes shut, to stop the tears. She has damned him. She has damned herself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0072"><h2>72. Draco</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I know it's been a few days, but classes just started back up for me. I will be able to update about once a week, hopefully more some weeks. I appreciate all the comments and kudos. :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Draco did, at some point fall asleep, and he feels guilty for doing so, because the minute he wakes up, he could tell that Astoria had not slept at all. She is lying flat on her back, staring straight up at the ceiling, tears running down her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sits up. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” Astoria smiles through her tears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine. I’m tired. I wish I could sleep.” Draco sighs and gets up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to talk to them. How long has it been?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria looks at him, surprised. “I don’t know. Eight hours maybe?” He nods, and heads for the exit. “Draco! What are you doing?” Astoria hisses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Getting you an answer.” Astoria looks like she wants to protest, but he leaves her lying there. She deserves an answer, at the very least. Not knowing has got to be worse. He ignores the glares and whispers and walks across the tent, right into Potter’s tent, without asking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zabini is still there, talking to Potter and Granger. Weasley must be out. They notice his presence, but say nothing as he sits down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can get Pansy to agree. I can get her not to betray us.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Potter shakes his head. “I’m still not keen on the idea. I know we don’t have a lot of options, but that is a huge risk.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t keep doing this alone. If you want better information, you need her. Like I said, I’ll get her to join, I’ll keep her from double-crossing us,” Zabini promises, urgently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Granger shakes her head. “If you can ensure that, fine. But I don’t know how you are going to do that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blaise stands and says, “I’ll get it done. Trust me.” With that, he leaves, striding out the tent, hotly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Granger frowns. “We didn’t say yes. He can’t just go off and make a decision like that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Potter shrugs. “I guess. You know how tired he is of working alone. It’s dangerous, and he is right. We send him on missions that he isn’t really qualified for. It puts his life at risk.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco says, “I wouldn’t worry. Let him try. The worst she can say is no, and she won’t rat you out. Not anymore. There isn’t a risk in letting him try.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Potter turns to him, and says, “Okay. I hate to admit it, but we are desperate. Zabini says there is talk of foreign invasions. Is that true?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco nods. “I’ll be honest. I’ve been out of the inner circle for a long time. But, I was at a dinner party and Rowle, now dead, said something about the D—er, You-know-who wanting to invade France. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Granger sighs. “If he moves on to other countries, there is no way we have the forces to stop him. If that happens, we’re done.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Potter groans. “How long would you say we have, Malfoy?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hard to say. He has the force to do it. I’d say before the end of the year. Losing the wand set him back,” Draco says. “But, I’ll say this. If we can kill You-know-who, that would set the Ministry back. Even if they decide to move forward, it would buy us time. We don’t have to fight an entire war in that time, but we need to make a move. Hard enough of a hit to keep him from going abroad.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Potter groans. “Fuck. That’s, what, two months?” Granger nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco lets them stew a moment, before he says, “Greengrass. Are you going to do it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Granger purses her lips. “We don’t know. Harry wants to. But, Ron and I—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just then, Weasley enters, and plops in the seat next to Granger. “Sorry. I’m back.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Granger turns to him. “What did George say?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Said he’d thought it would work. He can get everyone together if we decide to have him do it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco is about to ask what they are talking about, but Weasley keeps talking. “Yeah. Luna and him were with Astoria, trying to talk to her, make her feel better. She's jumpy, fidgety. It’s like she’s lying, or scared.” Wealsey gives him a pointed look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco glares at him. “She’s not. She’s just nervous.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clearly. Why?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think there is a why. She’s just like that. I’d guess you breathing down her neck is the cause,” Draco spat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Granger elbows Weasley, and then begins, more cautiously, “I think we were just wondering if she was alright. She mentioned she got cursed?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco bristles. “Did she tell you what curse?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Granger shakes her head. “No. That’s what's odd. I thought she might need help.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco pinches the bridge of his nose. “If she didn’t want to tell you, then I’m not going to. It was bad. I fixed her. That’s really all you need to know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Weasley narrows his eyes. “So, she’s afraid of being cursed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Likely. She was a little fidgety before then too. I don’t see how this is relevant.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You hit her?” Weasley asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Draco shouts. “No! Seriously?” Draco scoffs and turns his head. Typical. Granger looks uncomfortable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ron, I told you Astoria said he didn’t.” Draco’s eyes widen. Astoria hadn’t told him Granger wanted to know if he abused her, like some monster. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Weasley sighs, and says, “Sorry. Sorry. I can tell now, I was wrong.” Draco sighs heavily, running his hand over his face. Ouch. He wasn’t going to lie, that stung. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, I’m here for an answer. Are you going after Greengrass? Tell me.” There was a long pause. “Look, if it was your sister, your friend, you’d go. Please.” Draco winces at how pleading his voice sounds. He knows, that if they don’t go, Astoria will want to. And that means he will have to go, which is probably what the Dark Lord is hoping for. Granger gave him an evaluating look, as if she was a little surprised with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Potter sighed. “Yes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Weasley looked at him for a long time, before shrugging. “Alright mate. If you want to. I’ll tell Zabini. He’s about to leave. Maybe he can get us some information. When would we try and go?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Granger is glaring at Weasley. “Well, Ronald. Thank you for agreeing so quickly.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah.” Weasley grumbles. “When should I tell Zabini we’re going to try?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Night after tomorrow. If we can. Subject to change, but I think we’d be ready by then. We know who’s going. We just need a day or two to get ready,” Porter says, as Weasley nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hermione. Come on. We can’t do it if you don’t agree.” Weasley turns to Granger, and she gives him a stiff nod, a look of resignation on her face. Weasley sighs and then turns to leave. “I’ll be back. I want to catch Zabini before he leaves. He looks pissed, and right now, he is talking to Hannah, but I bet he’ll be gone soon.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco turns to Potter, shaking his head. “Is that really enough time to prepare? I mean, that’s a short window.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Potter gives Granger a guilty look. “Well, I sort of talked it over with Ginny, Neville, and Zabini last night. Apparently, Zabini’s mother was in the Center for about a month. He sketched us a rough layout of the Center, and we made a few plans…” Granger scoffs and Potter trails off. “Basically, we brainstormed. We have an idea that might work.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“An idea you will discuss with all important parties present,” Granger reminds, rolling her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco gives a relieved sigh, and stands up. “Thank you. I’m going to tell Astoria.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, er, wait. Ron was talking to George earlier, and he had an idea. We want you to destroy the horcrux. We have a fang, and everything. We thought if you did it, people would trust you more. Several others aren’t happy you’re here, and destroying the horcrux would make a statement. A positive one.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco sighs. “I’d rather not. You are the Chosen One. You do it.” The horcrux has a bad energy about it. He doesn’t like the way he feels around it, and he wants to stay as far away as possible from it.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Granger shares a look with Potter, before saing, “Malfoy, you need to do it. At the end of the day, Harry can’t keep someone here so many people are against. If they don’t warm up to you, we may not have a choice.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, risking my life, the life of the people I care about, and bringing you a horcrux, and the Elder Fucking Wand, wasn’t enough? If that’s not enough of a gesture of good fucking will, then I don’t know if destroying the horcrux is going to help.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Potter groans. “Look, I know. Okay? I know. Malfoy, they’ve lost a lot. They are angry, and with good reason. I’m not saying you deserve to be the subject of their constant ire, but right now, you are. A visual representation that you are genuine, that they can see with their own eyes, might work against that. Just think about it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco stands there a moment, thinking.  “I’ll do it. Just tell me when.” Draco says, hating that he has to agree. But, he can’t leave. If this is what it takes, then he will do it. How hard could it be, anyway? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco leaves without saying anything else. He sees Luna exit his tent and he meets her halfway across the clearing. “Hey.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Draco. Astoria went to the river. I showed her where she could wash up.” Draco stiffens. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alone?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s within the wards. It’s just back that way,” says Luna pointing toward a clump of trees. “She said to let you know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco nods. “Thanks. They are going to get her sister.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luna grins. “That’s wonderful. Astoria will be relieved. You should tell her.” Luna looks back toward the trees, before turning to him. “I’m really glad you’re here. I missed you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco smirks. “It appears I’m the only civilized company you’ve been in contact with. I bet you did.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luna shakes her head. “There you are.” Draco rolls his eyes, and turns, heading in the direction she pointed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco finds Astoria, her hair damp, shivering as she tugs on her jumper. “Hey,” he says. She jumps at the sudden noise and visibly relaxes when she sees it’s him. “You shouldn’t be out here alone.” Her eyes are red from crying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry. I just. I needed to do something. Tired of just waiting.” Draco nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what I came to talk to you about. They’re going to do it. They’re going to try and get her out.” Astoria gasps, throwing her arms around him, clinging to him tightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” she whispers, blinking away tears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t do much. I’m just the messenger,” Draco says. Astoria doesn’t seem to care. She is trembling slightly, and so he pulls back. “You’re shaking.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shivering. The water was freezing,” Astoria admits, teeth chattering. Draco scoffs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Use a warming charm.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t want the fish to get hot.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On you. Not the water,” Draco groans, rubbing his hands up and down her arms, trying to create friction. He pulls out his wand, and murmurs the charm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They think I hit you.” He stares at the water, not wanting to meet her eyes. Astoria sighs, letting her head fall against his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The arrogance. The absolute arrogance. The audacity,really. As if I am so weak-willed. It’s infuriating.” Astoria announced. “I told them, quite clearly, that you did not.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s quite the statement.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well those are quite the accusations.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco doesn’t say anything. Astoria reached up and kissed him. “You saved my life. Twice. Draco, I knew from the second day of knowing you that you wouldn’t and couldn’t hurt me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The first day?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was slightly concerned, but I think that was more the shock I had received. I mean, being sentenced to death will do that to you. If Helga Hufflepuff herself came into my room that night, I would have thought she would kill me too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco grinned and Astoria pressed her lips to his again, timidly moving her mouth against his, as always, starting out just a little shy. He knew if they kept kissing she wouldn’t be shy for long. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulls back, laughing at her confused expression. “They want me to destroy the horcrux,” he confessed, suddenly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you not want to?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I don’t. But I don’t have much of a choice. It’s a bit of a PR stunt.” Astoria nods in understanding, before stepping back, reaching for the coat hanging on a tree limb, slipping it on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see. Well, I know you can do it. You found it, you should destroy it. Do they even have the necessary materials?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I assume so. How, I have no idea. But, they do,” Draco says, frowning slightly as Astoria nearly falls into the river trying to tug her boots on. “Careful.” She leans against the tree, using it to keep her balance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What have they done with the wand?” Astoria asks, coming to walk beside him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t know. Didn’t ask.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t you—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I don’t want to see it.” Draco stops, turning toward her. “It makes me feel—It just sucks me in, and it feels like I can’t turn away that kind of power, Astoria. I wouldn’t be able to. Potter, maybe. Not me.” Draco sighs, stuffing his hands in his pocket, before he keeps walking, listening to Astoria struggle to keep up with him. He slows down, letting her catch up to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you did turn it away.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was hard. I couldn’t do it again,” Draco says. The truth is, that wand haunts him. He dreams of it, hungers for it. At times, it feels like there is nothing he wants more than that power. Astoria brushes his hand, her fingertips barely ghosting against his own. Almost nothing, that is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That night, he and Astoria hurriedly shrug back on their clothes, while his stomach twists in anticipation. He has to destroy it tonight. Astoria nervously smooths her hair and flips the collar of her coat up to hide her neck. He smirks, grabbing her wrist to pull her to him, claiming her lips again, his hands wrapping in and tugging her hair. He pulls back, leaving her breathless, while she blushes, fixing her hair again, shooting him a mock disapproving glare. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have to do it in front of everyone?” Astoria asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No pressure,” Astoria jokes, her voice coming out strained and a pitch higher. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Draco says dryly. Astoria flashes him a guilty smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Malfoy? You in there?” Potter calls from outside the tent. Draco sighs, and steps out, to where Potter is waiting for him. He has the horcrux in one hand, and something wrapped in cloth. “The fang,” Potter supplies, noticing where Draco’s attention has gone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great,” Draco grumbles, eyeing both objects. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Er, listen. The horcrux might show you a vision. It will try to convince you not to kill it. Just don’t listen to it, and stab it with the fang,” Potter rushes out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? A vision? What sort of vision?” Draco takes a slight step back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t know. Look, it’s different for every person. Usually, it’s personal. Something that gets under your skin,” Potter says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Personal.” A number of things flash through his mind as he considered the possible personal torments that could be thrown his way. None of them were any he fancied sharing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Potter looked somewhat apologetic, but it did little to lift Draco’s spirit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria stepped out of the tent, ducking past the two of them, throwing Draco a quizzical look over her shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, depending on whatever vision it shows, it could have the opposite effect you are looking for. If it shows something, well, anything, really, of my personal business, I don’t think that’s going to help our case,” Draco looked at the line of trees, refusing to meet Potter’s eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s worth a try. Look, Ron did it, and he came out okay. It was personal, but nothing bad.” Draco doubted he and Weasley had the same sort of past, but yeah. Sure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want my wand back,” Draco said suddenly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We aren’t giving you the elder wand,” Potter said, shaking his head. Draco ignored the roaring anger that started in the back of his mind, trying to push its way through. If he had to, he would have to start using occlumency to shut it out. That would make him an emotionless husk, but if he had to do it, he had to. He sees Astoria talking with Luna, leaning up against a tree, her fingers running across the bark behind her, discreetly. He doesn’t want to feel nothing anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not that wand. My wand. The one you stole.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stole?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. I said what I said. Stole,” Draco says flatly, crossing his arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. I had to get a new one anyway. It stopped working for me after you, well. After you got the elder wand. Destroy the horcrux, the wand is yours.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco sighs and nods his head in agreement. Great. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where did you get a basilisk fang, anyway?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hyperion Greengrass brought it to us.” Draco’s eyes widen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should be grateful. He was killed, you know. For basilisk breeding. He may have gotten you the fang, but he died for it. And, not a peaceful death either,” Draco says, his tone, accusatory. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Potter sighs, shaking his head. “Zabini had told us about the suicide. We were hoping that, well. We thought it was a choice he made, maybe to protect himself or his family.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, he didn’t take his own life. He was murdered,” Draco spits. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. Really, I am. Malfoy, he volunteered. He was aware of the risks. I wish it didn’t have to happen, but we needed this fang.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever. Let’s just get this over with.” Draco takes the cup and the fang, though he immediately wants to drop them. The cup, as if it can feel the presence of the fang, starts to almost pulse, the beat erratic as if it were afraid. He can feel something moving or writhing beneath the metal, but when he looks down, the cup’s surface is the same, flawless gold that he has become accustomed to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone is watching him, and he is immediately uncomfortable. Fear curls around him, constricting tightly, making it hard to breathe. He sighs, and though a part of him doesn’t want to do this, he begins to clear his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once again, he feels everything pushed down, tucked away out of sight, after being wiped clean from the surface of his mind. He cannot be brave, but he can make it so he doesn’t feel anything at all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria looks concerned, catching his eye, frowning when she sees his expression, or rather, lack thereof. She looks concerned, though it is impossible for him to comprehend why she would be. Logically, he may be able to deduce the reason, but why would he want to? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He places the cup on the ground, and though he can feel several pairs of eyes on him, it hardly matters. He doesn’t care if they watch. He doesn’t care about anything. He unwraps the fang carefully, not wanting to cut himself on it. He takes the fang in his hand, pulling his arm back, ready to stab it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he can, he feels something probing into his mind. It does not matter. It won’t be able to get through. There is nothing for it to find. But, a tendril of something awful and incredibly evil, does what Draco thought impossible, and slips through, and like a key turning in a lock, his carefully constructed wall, the one he had dedicated years of his life to building, opens, releasing a flood. He gasps his hand shaking slightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is no awful vision like he was fearing. Just, a whisper in the back of his mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Let me tell you a story. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>No. It’s her voice. Astoria’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There once was a prince who was weak and a coward. Though he attempted to defy his master, it was all in vain, for in the end, the truth always comes out. There is no hiding from him. But, the prince’s master was merciful. If he would bring him both the wand and the cup, his master would reward him. Power. Glory. Enough so all would fear and respect him. It is everything the prince always wanted. All he has to do is lower his hand, drop the weapon. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It is true. It is everything he wanted. But it isn’t what he wants. Not now. Not when he has lived long enough to know that there is no real power. Just evil. And all the power in the world can’t keep you from feeling empty. And even though it’s her voice, even though it twists his heart, he is able to force the voice from his mind, revelling in the return of steel-like calm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes the fang, and plunges it in the metal of the cup, which gives like flesh, the fang piercing the surface easily, and dark, blood-like substance spills ice-cold over his hands, the sound of a piercing scream echoing through the trees. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He drops the fang, taking a step back, breathing hard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Took you long enough. I thought you weren’t going to do it,” someone says, a hand clapping him on the back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels disoriented and out of place. He turns, without a word, heading for the trees. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0073"><h2>73. Astoria</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Draco disappears into the trees, and Astoria moves to follow him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” She turns her head in the direction of the voice. Harry Potter. He holds out a wand to her. “Draco’s. Can you give it to him?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Astoria says, taking the wand from his outstretched hand. Draco has disappeared, and she heads in the direction she saw him last. After a few moments, she sees him up ahead, his hair sticking out against the colors of the surrounding landscape. He has very long legs, and Astoria doubts she can catch up to him unless he slows down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” He flinches at the sound of her voice, and turns to look at her, as if he can’t quite trust her. Okay. Ouch. He does stop, though, and allows her to catch up with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did it.” He doesn’t say anything. “I—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t speak.” Astoria stares at him, shocked. “Sorry. Just—I. Please. For a minute.” Astoria nods, and turns to go, figuring he needs a minute, which she understands. He grabs her arm. “I didn’t mean you had to leave. Just stay. I just don’t want to talk.” He sits down, leaning up against a tree, and Astoria sits next to him. She picks up a leaf, feeling the dry, dead surface, that reminds her of parchment. He moves his leg so that it rests against her own, and when she looks over at him, his head is leaned back against the tree, and his eyes are closed. She nudges his leg, and he looks over at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She holds out his old wand, grinning at him. He grabs it from her hand, slowly, almost reverently, turning it between his fingers. He points it at the leaf in her hand, wordlessly transforming it into a flower, smirking. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Very impressive</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Astoria mouths. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It spoke to me. The horcrux.” Astoria gives him a quizzical look. “It used your voice,” Draco admitted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s rude. Plagiarism, if you ask me. I hope I’m compensated,” Astoria jokes. When he doesn’t answer, she says, gently, “Draco.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keep talking.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you didn’t want me to talk.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sound like you. I just—I need you to keep talking. Your voice is different. Nicer. Warmer.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d hope so. If I sounded exactly like that awful thing, I think I’d have to learn sign language. Live as a mute.” Silence. Well, she could talk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One time, I fell off a broomstick and broke my arm. It hurt really bad, and I’ve always been a terrible flier. Ever since then, I’ve been afraid to ride a broom. I can still feel the pain in my arm and I get so scared. It was awful. Daphne, of course, saw the whole thing, and, at first, she was practically hysterical, but not because my arm was broken. She kept talking about how horrible a cast would look with my dress for the assembly that weekend. That’s what she does, when she is upset. She just talks about things that make sense to her, things that are comfortable to her. It’s how she copes. I never really understood it. She is actually incredibly smart, but she hides it well. It’s like a defense mechanism really.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You're a bad flier?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I’m terrible. I failed first-year flying lessons. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Failed.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It’s the only failing grade I ever made.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll teach you,” Draco offers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria laughs, shaking her head. “Many have tried. All have failed. My father, I kid you not, hired a Bulgarian flight instructor, one that worked with Krum, to come and try to teach me. He left an hour later, because he got so frustrated. Turned down about three-hundred-thousand galleons.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did he want you to play quidditch?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. He just thought it was important I at least knew how to. But, he gave up after that. He just said I better pass my apparition test.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco laughs, but it disappears quickly. “Hey, listen. Potter told me something about your dad.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That he gave them the fang? Luna told me.” It had been a bit of a shock, but it did make more sense. Breeding basilisks for kicks didn’t sound like her father. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s talk about something else. It looks like it might rain,” Astoria offers, lamely. If she thinks about her father, she will think about finding him...the weather is a better opportunity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It got through my occlumency,” Draco says, suddenly. Astoria looks in his direction. His occlumency has always been impenetrable. “Nothing has ever done that. I’ve always had my occlumency to rely on. It’s the one thing I can count on to always work.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria reaches toward him, brushing hair out of his face. It’s gotten longer. “You can count on the fact you destroyed a horcrux. Draco, I don’t know if you’ve realized this yet, but you aren’t exactly a coward. I’ve seen you do some pretty brave stuff.” Astoria smiles softly at him, as he turns toward her, giving her a look mixed with guilt and fear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I might let you down.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not an expectation, you know. You wouldn’t let me down if you weren’t brave. I’m merely observing your behavior.” Draco sighs, tension easing from his face. He is going to get wrinkles. He is quiet for a few moments, before looking back at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grins. “Observing my behavior? What have you observed?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re rather difficult, you know. Disagreeable. Grumpy, a lot of the time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ouch.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But…” She gives him a mischievous smile. “There are benefits.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What sort?” Astoria doesn’t answer, her lips pressed together to hold back a smile. She shrugs her shoulders. “Maybe I can help you figure it out, then,” he says, leaning forward, pressing his lips to her, the kiss long and slow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulls back from her, and she feels lightheaded. “We should go back. You know, so they don’t think we’ve run off,” Astoria suggests. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hums a noncommittal sound, kissing her again. They don’t need to go back. Not really. I mean, what’s the worst that can happen. Nothing, really. It would be fine. More than fine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Let’s go back,” Draco says, after pulling back, smirking at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Astoria responds, coolly. He raises an eyebrow, as if he doesn’t quite buy it. But, she gets up, holding out a hand to help him up. He grabs her hand, but yanks her back down, with her tumbling on top of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Merlin, Greengrass. Can’t get enough, can you?” Astoria feels her face get warm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not fair! You—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kisses her again. “I what? I didn’t do anything.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Insufferable,” Astoria murmurs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You seem to suffer me just fine.” Draco flps the collar of her coat down, exposing the marks from earlier. He taps a finger against one of them, before trailing his finger down the side of her neck. Her heart skips a beat. “But, in all seriousness. We should go.” Draco stands, pulling her up with ease. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to talk to Neville,” Astoria says, as they make their way back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Longbottom? Why?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to talk to him about Daphne. She is...difficult to work with.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco nods. “Yeah. She—is a little—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She just. Has trouble coping. I think when something upsets her with something she tends to focus on what she can control. It’s sort of like occlumency, I guess.” Astoria sighs, shaking her head. She didn’t want Neville to get to her sister, find themselves in a stressful situation, and then when Daphne started talking about what color shoes would work best with her new dress, flip out on her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, Astoria. He’s...angry, almost. He’s changed. I mean, I think we all have. But he looks nothing like how he used to in school. He just looks mad at the world. I’m a little concerned they are picking him to lead this sort of operation. He seems off to me,” Draco says, pushing back a tree limb, creating a clear path for her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. I wish I could go. I’m worried she’s been tortured and I’m worried she’s been hurt, which is bound to make her—difficult to be with.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco stopps, turning toward her, grabbing her shoulder. “You can’t go, Astoria. Please. If Neville goes, and he can’t get to her, we can go. But, just give them a chance.” He sounds desperate and Astoria doesn’t miss the way his eyes glance down at her form, as if remembering Bellatrix’s curse. She crosses her arms over herself, her muscles tensing in fear and she fights the urge to check herself once again, making sure she looks okay. “Are you alright?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. I won’t go. At least not yet,” Astoria says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They push through the trees and as soon as they do, everyone stares at them, but they don’t look quite as vindictive as they did before. Astoria hastily flips the collar of the coat back up, grateful for the distance. Ginny crosses the clearing, heading toward them. “Harry wants to see both of you. He wants to talk about The Center.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco and Astoria follow Ginny, ducking inside the tent after her. Hermione Granger is there, with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. Neville is there too, with whom Astoria thinks may be Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnagan, but she can’t be sure. Draco sinks into a chair, his legs stretching a considerable distance across the floor, leaving Astoria to climb over them to reach a chair. “Accommodating,” Astoria grumbles quietly, shooting him a look. He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Let’s go over our plan,” Harry says, looking at everyone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“First, we have to sneak in. According to Zabini, there is a sewer system, unused, that runs under The Center. He says that there is an entrance to The Center that will take you up into the basement. That’s how you get in, and that’s where you are going to smuggle everyone out. Take anyone who will come, in groups of three. Seamus, you are going to be apparating people to the entrance near Tinworth.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait. Have you actually had a conversation with The Merchants?” Astoria interjects, raising an eyebrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who?” Harry asks. She sighs. She had counted on them already knowing who they were when they mentioned The Black Market. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You need to talk to The Merchants. They are a board of witches and wizards who run The Black Market. You can’t just smuggle fifty people inside without clearing it with them. Plus, they may disable the wards around the entrance. I’ve gotten through Tinworth before, and it’s difficult and certainly not feasible for a fast-paced operation like this.” Astoria shuffles nervously under the several intense gazes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Well that adds another day,” Ron says, slumping in his seat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I’ll go and talk to them. I...know them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco turns toward her. “Know them?” She nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re friends. Sort of. Look, the point is, I think I can get them to say yes. They’ll approve it tomorrow morning, and you will be free to show up whenever you’re ready,” Astoria insists. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry looks at Hermione and she frowns. “Is that safe for you? Can you think of anyone that would turn you in?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Possibly. I’ll wear a cloak when I go or something. That isn’t uncommon in The Black Market.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll come with you,” Draco says. Astoria frowns. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to go alone. We can’t both be there,” Draco’s eyes flash, and she can tell he is angry with her. She winces. “I want you to go. I’d feel better if you were there. But, I don’t think it’s wise. I can slip through unnoticed. I know how it works, I know how to operate within it. You aren’t exactly discreet.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco’s expression didn’t waver. “That’s not true.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not saying you aren’t good at hiding. You are. But that is in a new, different place. Everyone knows who Draco Malfoy is. You can’t go with me.” He doesn’t say anything, his expression stony. He doesn’t fight her on the issue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione says, “Astoria, you can go. Just you.” Astoria looks nervously in Draco’s direction, but he says nothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Well, assuming we get permission, we can move forward. Dean, you’ll be with Neville,” Potter starts again. “Your job is to get the groups of three to Seamus, and fend off any trouble or guards. Remember, we don’t have the forces to fight if someone calls the Death Eaters in. You’ve got to make sure that we don’t draw attention, and we don’t let the word get out that we are there. If that happens, we have to leave. Whoever doesn’t make it, doesn’t make it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria twists in her seat. “Will you get Daphne? She should be first. She’s most at risk.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ron shrugged. “Or last. Getting her out may alert everyone else. She’ll be the most noticeable.” Astoria opened her mouth, but didn’t quite know what to say. As much as she hated it, he was right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry shakes his head. “Neville is in charge of it. He can decide who goes when. He can make the call based on the logistics once he arrives.” Neville frowns, but doesn’t say anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Once everyone is at The Black Market, we can explain who we are, and what our purpose is. Be honest. I don’t want anyone joining and then being surprised at the risk. Take those who are willing to fight with us back. Those who aren’t, leave them there. Questions, comments, concerns?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria doesn’t have anything to say, and it appears neither does anything else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Has anyone heard from Zabini?” Hermione asks. Everyone shakes their heads. “Well, listen. If she agrees, then I’m going to need her to start working on who might be willing to side with us, and if she can, start spreading rumors that question You-Know-Who’s immortality and power. Talk about how he lost his wand, and make sure people know that isn’t a god. He can be destroyed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ron nods. “And listen, we don’t have a lot of time. We have to catch him before he attempts to take over other countries. We aren’t just working to save our home anymore. The world is on the line right now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neville sighs. “I’m going to go take a minute to think through everything” Astoria watches him leave the tent, before waiting a few seconds, and then getting up to follow him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sees him walking towards the trees. She takes a deep breath. “Hey, um. Neville?” she calls out. He turns, and stops, watching her jog up to him. “I just wanted to say thank you. I know you weren’t a fan of the idea, and I’m really grateful you're going to try.” He doesn’t answer, but he gives her a short nod, before turning away. “Wait.” He sighs and faces her. “Daphne can be difficult. She’s been through a lot and she may be a little flighty. Okay? Just. Be patient.” Astoria rocks back and forth on her heels, looking at him anxiously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s mad.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! No. Not at all. Just, she can be difficult to work with when she is stressed. And, since she is dying in a couple of weeks, she may be stressed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll see what I can do. I’ll try.” Astoria opens her mouth to thank him, but he is already walking away. She sighs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t fancy going back into the meeting, and so she heads inside her tent and sits on the bed. She is so very tired. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few minutes later, Draco comes in, and doesn’t look at her or speak to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did they say anything? After I left?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing important.” Draco faces away from her, staring at the wall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re upset with me.” Astoria gets up, walking towards him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think you should go alone. Do you know how dangerous that is?” He whirls around to face her. Astoria sighs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. I’m a little worried about going without you. I’d rather you went with me. But, that doesn’t change the fact that it isn’t the wisest decision.” Draco scoffs and turns away from her. “I have to do this for Daphne. Okay? She has to get out. I’ve been to The Black Market many times before—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. When you didn’t have a price on your head as big as the Ministry’s treasury,” Draco spits. Astoria sighs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know The Black Market, Draco. I know the people, where to go, how to remain unseen. I can do this. I won’t get caught.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll have to reveal yourself to The Merchants. And you think they won’t turn you in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I don’t. I can’t deny it’s a possibility. But, I’m nearly sure they won’t.” Astoria smiles weakley. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nearly sure.” Draco shakes his head in disbelief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going. Whether or not you like it. If Daphne wasn’t involved, I’d consider. Hell, I probably would have no desire to go. But, she is. I can’t leave her. I have to do something.” Draco’s eyes blaze and for a minute, they stare each other down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighs, shoulders slumping. “Fuck, Astoria.” He steps forward, cupping her face in his hands. “Be careful. Please.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What a shame. My plan was to be exceedingly reckless, but since you asked.” He gives a short, nervous laugh, before kissing her deeply, fervently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he stops to take a breath, she says, “You’ll kiss me again, you know. It’s not the last time.” He stares at her for a long time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re right. It’s not.” And he’s kissing her again and it’s slow and thorough, and she can’t think of anything else, but moving her lips against his, his hands running up and down her frame, as if they had their own mind, sending shivers up and down her spine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be fine,” she whispers. She hopes it’s true. She doesn’t want to be a liar. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0074"><h2>74. Astoria</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Astoria takes the polyjuice potion from Hermione, trying not to grimace at the small vial. She holds it up to the light, squinting at it. </p><p>“I can’t take this. The Merchants won’t appreciate deception. It’s better if they see my face.” </p><p>“Your face is recognizable” </p><p>“I’ll wear a red cloak. Prostitutes wear those. If I have my hood up, they’ll think I’m off on a call. I’ll be able to slip away from the shops, stalls, and bars, without people getting suspicious or wondering where I’m of too.” Astoria says. Draco, who is standing in the corner, scoffs.</p><p>“Pick a different disguise. A prostitute?”</p><p>“Yes, well. It allows the most mobility. The Merchants order them often enough. No one will think twice when I slip in.” </p><p>“Oh. And if someone would like to employ your services?” Draco asks, eyes narrowing. “What is your plan then?” </p><p>Astoria gives him an offended look. “Well, I would obviously decline. Unless it was a Professional Quidditch player,” she tacked on at the end. Draco doesn’t appear to find her in the least bit amusing. “I’m teasing. I would say no,” Astoria defended. </p><p>“I’m not worried about you, Astoria.” </p><p>“I’ve got a wand. I can hex. Curse. Jinx. The works.” He shook his head. </p><p>“I think Ginny has a cloak. We can use <em> Colvaris </em> to change the color.” Hermione leaves, and Draco is alone with her. </p><p>“You can’t get into a battle. Combat would draw a lot of eyes. You’ll have to be careful.” </p><p>“I will be.”</p><p>“Yes. Careful enough not to get caught with contraband material and get sentenced to death?” Astoria glares at him. </p><p>“Low blow. Listen, why don’t you just relax, and by the time you manage that, I’ll probably already be back. I don’t plan to be gone longer than three hours.” </p><p>He sighs, but before he can speak, Astoria says, “Can I have your old wand? The Maple one?” His eyes widen. </p><p>“Your wand doesn’t work?” He immediately grabs it from the table, examining it. </p><p>Astoria sighs. “No. Just, I may need to use it and dispose of it. If it means a lot to you, then of course I wouldn’t take it! But—”</p><p>“If you need it, it's yours. Can I ask why you need it?” Astoria presses her lips together. </p><p>“I have a small plan,” Astoria whispers. </p><p>Draco looks as if he is about to say something, but Hermione comes back in, with a red cloak and a dress, that isn’t too revealing, but would serve her purposes just fine. </p><p>“Thanks,” Astoria says, grabbing the clothes and turning to head back to her tent to change. Draco follows her. </p><p>When they duck inside, he corners her, his gaze lowered. Is he looking at her shoulders? She’s thought that they look odd for a while now. Perhaps it’s all in her head. </p><p>“Is it my shoulders? Is that what you are looking at?” </p><p>“Hm? Oh. No. There’s a bug on your shirt.” He plucks a small beetle of her shirt and drops it outside the tent. </p><p>“Do you think one of my shoulders is higher than the other?” Astoria asks, suddenly.</p><p>“What?” </p><p>She shrugs off her shirt, and closes her eyes. “Shoulders. I think one is higher than the other.” His fingertips trace the line of her sternum, her collarbone, and the tops of her shoulders.</p><p>“No. I told you I fixed everything. I checked.” She pulls off her jeans, slipping the black dress over her form. </p><p>“Check again.” </p><p>“Do they hurt?” His hand runs over the curve, thumb pressing lightly into the back of one, rubbing small circles.  </p><p>“No.” Only sometimes. </p><p>“Roll them back. Shrug them.” Astoria does so. “They look normal to me. Do they feel normal?”</p><p>“Yes.” </p><p>“Why do you ask?” </p><p>“I don’t know. I keep checking. I don’t know why. I just want someone else to check sometimes. A second opinion.” </p><p>Draco presses his lips to each shoulder lightly. “I’ve checked. I observe you quite closely. Nothing looks amiss.” </p><p>She is more scared than she thought she would be to go back to Britain alone. She thought of Bellatrix and felt like vomiting. She could nothing but realize the danger she would soon be in, and though she was scared, she dare not say it. </p><p>As ashamed as she is, there is a constant fear running in the back of her mind, of the Transmogrification, and it manifests into ugly, horrible thoughts. She wonders whether it makes her weak to still be so scared. Everything is fine. She is fine. </p><p>“Astoria,” he whispers. </p><p>“ I will be alright. I’ll see you tonight.” She grabs the cloak and throws it over her shoulders, her hands bringing the hood up to hide her face. He grabs her wrists, staying her hands, kissing her fervently. He pulls away, pulling the hood to hide her face. </p><p>“You will remember to—”</p><p>“Yes. Draco, we hardly slept last night for your telling me all the things I must remember.” </p><p>“That is isn’t why—”</p><p>“Shh. None of your flagrancy.” </p><p>Astoria leaves him standing there smirking, hoping that she really will see him soon.  She may have slightly overestimated the odds of the mission succeeding, in an effort to assuage his fears, but now she truly feels terrible. </p><p>There is one thing she fears. The Merchants like money, and Astoria is quite sure she has a high price on her head.  </p><p>She apparates to the coast, at the Tinworth entrance, eyeing the water with dread. She would have liked to go back to her home and rescue her portkey, but she imagines her home is being watched and is not in the least bit safe. </p><p>She steps into the frigid water, cursing the gripping chill that settles into her bones. She presses forward trying to think of warm, heat-filled things. </p><p>After wading through, she feels the current take her and she lets it without protest. The cold makes her limbs lock and she can feel the water fill up her lungs, making them burn. She waits until she hears the whisper spoken into her ear. “When I’m yours, you want to share me. When you share me, I’m no longer yours.” Astoria concentrates hard on the answer,<em> a secret </em>, before the water turns warm, and funnels her downward. </p><p>She falls, landing in a heap at the pool at the bottom of the underwater cavern, swimming desperately to get her head above water, gasping for breath. She climbs out of the pool, completely dry, and makes sure the hood of her cloak covers her head. </p><p>She decided to come barefoot, as she doesn’t have any shoes that fit with her current state of dress. Her feet feel cold against the stone floor, as she gazes at the sprawling underground city. </p><p>There are stalls, kiosks and stores, all full with the various items the Dark Lord has banned, as well as one’s that you simply wouldn’t want to be seen purchasing. She passes a wooden stall filled with muggle appliances, and another full of what appears to be unregistered wands. </p><p>The Black Market is full of crowded structures built much too close to each other with narrow streets cutting through in every direction, with no rhyme, reason, or pattern, like cracks in a very ugly wallpaper. The market is crowded today, and Astoria has to dart in between throngs of people, and slips down narrow alleyways. The Merchants lie at the very heart of The Market, and they reside in a tall building that towers over the rest of the surrounding area. </p><p>Astoria keeps her head lowered and her face hidden, finding that if you walk with purpose, like you have somewhere to be, people tend to have little interest in stopping you. </p><p>Astoria hears a voice call out to her, but she pretends she doesn’t hear it and keeps walking. </p><p>She passes a brothel where a woman of about thirty in a similarly red cloak, gives her a friendly wave. Astoria doesn’t respond, and keeps walking, darting in between two very drunk women who call out after her. </p><p>She feels a hand clamp down on her wrist and she doesn’t look up, keeping her face lowered. “I’m afraid I’m busy.” </p><p>“Really?” </p><p>“Yes,” she says, ripping her hand from his grasp. She continues, now more running than walking, until she reaches the tall building, manned by two burly looking men. </p><p>“Another one?” one of them mumbles, stepping aside without giving her a second glance. Perfect. Just as she had known they would. The inside is luxurious in the most gaudy way possible, filled with tacky, but expensive artifacts, and a nauseating mass of bright colored silks hanging from the walls. </p><p>She enters the main hallway, and climbs the stairs to the very top floor, where she enters a room. The Merchants sit at a long table, on which various assortments of both trash and treasure lie, with Astoria spotting a solid gold sculpture of a dragon, and a muggle rubber duck wearing a top-hat. </p><p>As she entered one on the left stood up, no doubt having ordered certain services a short while ago. Astoria holds her hand up, indicating for him to stay, and lifts her cloak. </p><p>There is a low whistle from the man who sits at the center, with his long, scraggly hair in a greasy bun, and his hands adorned with many expensive and large gold rings, resting on his overly large stomach. Jerrick Gallow. </p><p>“Astoria Greengrass. You’ve caused a bit of a stir recently,” Gallow says, leaning forward slightly, so that his stomach was pressed against the table, the edge now buried by his straining amaranth velvet waistcoat. </p><p>“Have I?” Astoria asks innocently, one eye trained on the burly men standing beside the door. </p><p>“Yes. Though I suppose your accomplice has caused quite more of a calamity. I have heard the rumors. And if they are true—” He stopped, raising an eyebrow, clearly asking her if they were. </p><p>Astoria decided to neither confirm nor deny. “Yes, well. He does love attention.” </p><p>“He’s got it. His father’s ragin’ pissed. Looks a little unhinged, if you ask me,” a small man, who looked a bit like a lizard, with a nasally voice says. Astoria tries not to bristle at Tem Foremen’s voice. His voice is both grating and whiny, and has always bothered her. </p><p>“It’s been bad for business, you know. Everyone’s on edge, now that you’ve gone an angered The Dark Lord,” Gallow complains. </p><p>“My sincerest apologies.” The Market had never looked more crowded in her opinion. </p><p>“What are you doing here? Have you been hiding in the market this entire time?” A woman with bleached blonde hair that looks severely damaged by chemicals asks, which Astoria cannot fathom the reason for, since a simple charm would have done the job. Her lips are very red, and she has on so much makeup, that Astoria thinks she could make a line in the sludge that covers her face with her fingernail. Astoria thinks it might be Delvira Tar, but if it is, she has undergone substantial changes to her appearances. </p><p>“No. I’m visiting. I have a favor to ask,” Astoria says, seating herself in the chair of moldy yellow velvet, and she lets her fingers slide against the material, which feels crusted. She grimaces and touches the hem of her cloak instead. </p><p>“A favor? We did always like you, Miss Greengrass. And we are grateful you did not sell us out after your capture. But, in your current state, I highly doubt you are in any position to be asking favors. What we owed your father died with him.”  </p><p>Astoria smiles coyly. They are saying just what she thought they would. “My father managed to save you from discovery, when the Death Eaters had nearly just found you, and you would forget that? You would be nowhere without him.” </p><p>Delvira scoffs, examining her orange fingernails that look as if they’ve had five coats of nail polish to many, and Astoria can see where dirty caught in the drying paint. “You Twenty-Eight children are all the same! Always relying on deeds of Mummy and Daddy! Well, Daddy is dead, so I’m afraid we can’t help you.” </p><p>Astoria lifts a shoulder. “I don’t need to rely on my father. I just don’t like resorting to petty threats. But, if I must, I must.” Her hand slips to the hilt of her wand. </p><p>Jerrick’s eyes narrow. “Threats? What could you possibly threaten us with!” </p><p>“I’ll show my face. I’ll run through every street, bar, and brothel, until everyone here knows that I was among them. Rumor will spread. Your market will be crawling with Death Eaters, and they’ll take and destroy everything you’ve built.” </p><p>Real fear flits across their faces. Astoria smirks. Got you. </p><p>Tem narrows his eyes. “Oh yeah? That’s if they find us.”</p><p>“The only reason they haven’t is because they haven’t deigned you important enough. You’ve been sloppy, and expanded the consumers you serve far too wide. You think the people out there wouldn’t sell you out to the Death Eaters if they were tortured? You think the Lestranges wouldn’t break into their minds?”</p><p>“We could make it so you never leave this room.” Jerrick says, giving her a nasty grin. The men at the door take their cue, but Astoria leaps to her feet, firing two stunning spells behind her. The men fall to the floor, quickly. Astoria darts behind Tem’s expensive looking dining chair, and holds her wand to his temple, just as the men begin to stand on shaking feet. </p><p>“Call them off. I’ll kill him,” Astoria says, giving Delvira and Jerrick a blazing look over Tem’s jutted shoulder. Jarrick waves his hand, and the men leave.  </p><p>Delvira and Jerrick share a look. “I see you and Daddy share some similarities. Fine. What do you want?” </p><p>“Tonight, there will be nearly fifty people smuggled in. They may stay here awhile, but most will probably leave with some friends of mine.” </p><p>“How long will they be here?” Tem leans forward. </p><p>“A few hours. Hopefully not long. A few might stay a couple of days if they choose not to leave with my friends.” </p><p>“And who are these friends of yours?” Delvira asks, wrinkling her nose. </p><p>“Confidential.” Jerrick and Delvira don't look happy with the answer, but Tem, with a wand still pressed to his temple, gives them a desperate look. </p><p>“Fine. If that’s what you want, you got it.” Astoria carefully removed her wand. </p><p>“You’ll have to disable the protections around the Tinworth entrance. Can you do that? Have the cold water disappear and the gatekeeping riddle go. Just have the current bring them through. We can’t smuggle that many people through with the wards up,” Astoria says, pleadingly. </p><p>“No!” Jerrick shouts, outraged. </p><p>“I’ll make you a deal,” Astoria says. </p><p>His beady eyes light up. “What deal?” </p><p>Astoria retrieves the Maple wand from her pocket. “Draco Malfoy’s wand. The wand that disarmed The Dark Lord. You could make a lot of money from selling it.”  The Merchants collectively gasp, each leaning forward eagerly. </p><p>Jerrick reaches for it eagerly, but Astoria shakes her head, tutting in disapproval. </p><p>“Disable the wards,” Astoria says, firmly. </p><p>“Fine. Wards will be disabled.” </p><p>“Thank you. Really,” Astoria says. They give her a disgruntled look, but don’t say anything. Astoria grabs the golden statue of the desk and there are outraged cries. She walks to a window, and smashes the statue against the glass, watching it shatter. </p><p>“What on earth did you do that for?” Delvira whines, dramatically throwing a hand to her chest. </p><p>“I’m not walking through your facility full of lackeys. I’ll take the window,” Astoria says, placing the statue back on the desk. She climbs up on the window sill, and jumps out, ignoring the gasps behind her. Just before she hits the ground, she casts a cushioning charm, and hastily pulls her hood over her face before checking around her. The alleyway is deserted. </p><p>She makes her way back to the outskirts of the market, in record time. There really had been nothing to worry about. She reaches a winding stone staircase that will take her up and out of The Market. She pushes open the door at the stop, made of heavy stone and enchanted to lead only one way: out. </p><p>Astoria finds herself in a cave and walks until she is standing on the beach. From the small tourist town, she can tell she is many miles from the entrance to The Black Market. The exit is enchanted for her to reappear far from any location that could be traced back to The Market, and Astoria knows from experience, the exiter ends up in a different place each time. The enchantments really are quite impressive. </p><p>“I knew you’d come back, Miss Greengrass,” a cold, slightly manic sounding voice calls. She turns her head, finding Lucius Malfoy holding his wand out, pointing at her heart. Oh. That was quite unfortunate. </p><p>“Did you?” Astoria says, her voice strained. </p><p>“Yes.” His hand strays to his sleeve, likely to pull it up to reveal his mark, to call The Dark Lord. </p><p>“And your son?” asks Astoria, desperate to distract him. </p><p>“I have no son!” he shouts, his face contorting into a mad expression. </p><p>“No?” Astoria says, taking a small step forward, watching his hand inch his sleeve up. “I think you do. He’s standing right there.” Astoria points behind Lucius’s head, a desperate attempt, that surprisingly works. When his head turns wildly, Astoria has just enough time to pull her wand out and apparate, listening to his scream of rage and his hand rips her clothes in a desperate attempt to grab onto her. It is in vain, because she disappears, landing in the trees, face down. Not her most graceful attempt. Her dress is ripped at the sleeve, but it isn’t as bad as she had thought the tear had been. </p><p>Several people in the camp are staring at her and she groans as she gets to her feet. She feels like she might fall over again, still slightly disoriented from her hasty apparation. A hand grabs her arm, steadying her. </p><p>“Astoria! Are you alright?” Draco is holding her up as her head clears.</p><p>“Yeah. Yeah I am.” </p><p>Hermione comes toward her. “Did it work? Are they going to let us in?” </p><p>Astoria nods. “Can I—” She has to stop to take a breath. “Can I sit?” Draco picks her up and her head spins a little. Apparition used to make her dizzy but it appears that in her quick escape, she brought on vertigo. </p><p>“Here,” he puts her in a chair, and Astoria sighs. </p><p>“It worked. I’m fine seriously. Just had to apparate quickly.” </p><p>“Why? Were you seen?” </p><p>“By one Death Eater. Far from The Black Market. I got away,” Astoria says, closing her eyes. She takes another breath. “It’s far enough away that they won’t make the connection.” </p><p>Hermione left the tent, saying, “I’m getting Harry and Ron. They went off somewhere with George.” </p><p>Draco is crouched in front of her, looking at her closely. She feels fine now, and smiles at him. “Sorry. I’m alright.” </p><p>She stands up and Draco stands with her, looking a little startled. “Sit back down!” </p><p>She puts her hands on his shoulders. “I’m alright. I’m alright! I promise,” she says, laughing, wrapping her arms around him. He leans down, kissing her hard, his hands coming up to cup the sides of her face. He pulls back, smoothing her hair. He leans again, kissing her much softer. </p><p>“You said you ran into a Death Eater? Which one?” he whispers, pulling back, examining the rip in her dress. That in Astoria’s opinion, was not an ideal question. </p><p>“Astoria,” he says, sounding concerned. </p><p>“Itwasyourfather.” </p><p>Draco blinks at her. “What?” </p><p>“It was your father.” Astoria grimaces. Draco’s eyes flash. </p><p>“What?” he growls. Oo. Not good. </p><p>“He didn’t attack me! Just held me at wand point. I got away! Not a scratch,” Astoria tries. He sighs heavily. </p><p>Hermione comes in with Harry and Ron. Astoria turns to them. “Hey. Everything went well. We are good for tonight. I did run into one Death Eater, but I got away quickly.” </p><p>Harry opens his mouth, but Astoria interrupts him. “I’m actually exhausted. I jumped out of a window, so I think I need some rest. Could we talk in a couple of hours?” Astoria asks, without really asking. </p><p>Harry looks a little surprised, but nods. “Yeah, um. I guess that’s alright.” Astoria smiles, and watches them leave the tent. Astoria looks back at Draco, his face drawn and tight. She reaches up, her fingers smooth over his face, across the stubble that is growing.</p><p>“It’s okay. I’m sorry,” she whispers. </p><p>“Did he say anything?” Draco asks, his voice coming out in a strained whisper. </p><p>“He did,” Astoria says, tears coming to her eyes, and reaching for him. He pulls away from her, crossing the small tent and leaning over the table, his arms bracing against the surface. </p><p>“What?” </p><p>“Draco—” </p><p>“What did he say?” Draco interrupts, his voice deadly quiet. </p><p>“He said you weren’t his son anymore.” Silence. Draco screws his eyes shut, looking pained. “Draco, he looked mad, like he wasn’t himself. I don’t think he <em> is </em> himself.” She takes a few hesitant steps forward, placing a hand on his back, smoothing the tensed muscles, before pushing her hand up the back of his neck and through the hair at the nape of his neck. </p><p>“Draco, I’m sorry,” Astoria whispers. “I didn’t want to tell you. I’m sorry.” He stands and turns to face her. </p><p>“It’s fine,” he says brusquely. </p><p>“No. It’s not fine.” Draco gives her a half smile. “Draco, I’m really glad you’re here with me. I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather be with,” Astoria whispers. </p><p>He shakes his head, sighing. Astoria turns, making sure to hide her hurt expression. She reaches for her shirt and jeans, eager to get out of her clothes. </p><p>“Astoria,” he whispers. She turns,looking at him. “I—I.” He looks incredibly tense, and there is a raw pain behind his eyes that she’s never seen before. “I need you here,” he finishes. </p><p>“I’m not going anywhere,” she says, firmly. Draco closes his eyes for a long time, and when he opens them, Astoria can see he has somewhat collected himself. </p><p>“Jumped out of a window?” he asks, giving her a strained smile. </p><p>“It was quite the dramatic exit,” she says, turning to her clothes. </p><p>“I was worried.” </p><p>Astoria smiles at him over her shoulder. “Did you miss me?” she teases. </p><p>“Mm. I missed your shoulders,” he fires back. </p><p>“Oh? I’m told they are very <em> normal </em> looking.” </p><p>She shrugs the dress off, reaching for the shirt. She looks over her shoulder, smiling, which fades when she sees that he is smirking at her. He is watching her and she freezes, her hand clutching her shirt. </p><p>“You won’t need that,” he murmurs, stepping toward her. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0075"><h2>75. Draco</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco is listening to Astoria give Potter a play by play of her mission at the Black Market. When she reaches the part of her story about pawning off his old wand, she gives him a nervous glance, as if worried he’d be upset. He shakes his head, rolling his eyes teasingly. Now that he has his hawthorn wand, he can’t imagine using the maple one again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A Death Eater saw you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, but again, the exit to the market makes sure you are let out kilometers away from the entrance,” Astoria explains, tiredly. “If anything, it might work in our favor. They’ll be searching that town looking for me, not paying a bit of attention to a stretch of seaside in the middle of nowhere,” Astoria continues, her fingers brushing against the wood of the table she is leaning against. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you don’t know what Death Eater saw you,” asks Potter. Draco tenses, but Astoria has a nonchalant expression, and shrugs half-heartedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No idea. I got away before they could say anything and they had their mask on,” Astoria lies, so easily it impresses Draco. Her only tell is the way her fingers twitch across a knot in the wood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Potter sighs. “Okay. Neville, are you ready for tonight?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Longbottom is staring at the ground, silently, and only gives Potter a single nod. Astoria frowns at him apprehensively, chewing her lip. Draco wonders if Potter is about to go over the plan again, and hopes not, because by this point, they’d already heard it many times before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They let the wards down at the entrance right? What’s it like to enter now?” Neville asks, talking to Astoria in short clipped tones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve never entered without the wards. But, from my understanding, you would apparate to the location, and enter the water. Get about waist-deep and the current will take you through. There should be no enchantments or riddles, only the magic entrance,” Astoria says, thoughtfully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neville takes out the parchment, where Astoria’s neat coordinates are written, along with careful instructions. “Okay. Seamus, Dean, and I are leaving in a few moments. We want to find these coordinates and look around before we head to the Center.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria crosses the tent to sit beside Draco, limping slightly. He smirks and is about to whisper in her ear, to mockingly ask her what made her so sore, when she gives him a look, that says she already knows what he is about to ask, and he better not. He is planning to ignore her look, and tease her anyway, when his left arm burns. He gasps, and clamps his hand on top of it, the pain making his vision briefly go dark. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria looks over, and her eyes widen as she notices his tautened expression. “What’s wrong?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco shakes his head, unable to speak. The Dark Lord is angry and the mark burns so fiercely that Draco is barely able to hold back a scream. After a minute, it cools to a dull throb, and he lets out a breath. Everyone is staring at him and he shifts uncomfortably under their gazes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s calling everyone to him. He’s furious,” Draco said, voice thick with pain, feeling the need to explain. Astoria glanced at the others nervously, before turning back to him, looking like she didn’t quite know what to do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry, can you—” Hermione starts.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I can’t feel anything from the scar. Not since that night in the Forbidden Forest,” Harry says, cutting her off quickly, as if he has heard her start this question many times before.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco stands and pushes through to leave the tent, not wanting Potter to watch him clutch desperately at his mark.  Astoria stands to go after him, following him outside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Stay,” he tells her. “They're talking about going after Daphne. I’ll be back in a minute,” he assures her. Astoria frowns and shakes her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t do anything, okay? Just give me some space while it calms down,” he snaps, pain making his tone short. Astoria nods and ducks back in and he hopes she isn’t hurt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heads into the trees, looking at the late afternoon sun, feeling it on his face as he takes deep, shuddering breaths, trying to focus on something else other than the pain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slumps against a tree, his back pressed into the bark, feeling the small ridges press into his skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mark burns for another hour and Draco knows the Dark Lord must be punishing his followers, letting the mark burn them. His mark may feel extremely painful, but at least he doesn’t have to contend with the unforgivables his former </span>
  <em>
    <span>colleagues</span>
  </em>
  <span> are no doubt experiencing. He wonders if his father—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. He isn’t going to think about that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, the pain lessens, and as he looks into the sky, he realizes Longbottom has probably left. He stands, with great effort and heads back to the camp and finds Potter standing alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We shouldn’t have destroyed the horcrux until we raided the Center,” Draco says, coming to stand next to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why else would he be this angry?” Draco asks, accusingly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Potter groans. “He can’t feel a horcrux being destroyed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco sighs. “Well, destroying it may not have affected anything then. My point is, I think he knows it’s not in the ancient Black vault anymore. If he finds that the horcrux is gone, he is going to be livid.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Potter shakes his head. “So? If anything, that will make him less worried about what’s going on tonight.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’ll suspect that Astoria and I took it, and he’ll go after the closest people to us. Daphne. He might go after my parents, Potter. I—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Join the fucking club, Malfoy. That’s life. If you wanted to make sure no one got hurt, then you should have stayed playing Death Eater—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If he figures that out before tonight, he’ll want to kill Daphne. Sooner, rather than later. He’ll show up and your little friends might be—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Weren’t you so eager that we leave?” Potter asks, shaking his head. “I’m not the same person, Malfoy. I don’t get to play hero anymore. That didn’t work. So, I have to make tough calls. Be glad you don’t have to.” Potter stalks off, leaving Draco standing there, fuming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ducks inside his tent, hoping Astoria isn’t there. She is, walking back and forth across the small space, clearly worried about her sister. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey. Does it feel better?” she asks, brightly, though her tone is forced. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, it does.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiles, and resumes pacing the length of the tent. Draco dodges her and lays on the bed and throws his arm over his head, blocking the room from his eyes. Astoria is so quiet he almost forgets she’s there. He lifts his arm slightly and sees that she has sat down, curled up in the chair, her arms wrapped around her legs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She is fiddling with her wand, running her fingers across the smooth wood, frowning every so often. She closes her eyes and her lips move slightly, and he wonders if she is praying or something. His stomach twists and he wonders if he made the wrong choice, bringing her here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco,” she whispers, quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you think the Dark Lord is so angry?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco closes his eyes, his heart clenching at her question. He wasn’t going to make her more distressed then she already was. “I don’t know. Maybe because my father let you get away,” he says it to avoid talking about the horcrux, but when he says it, he realizes it’s a real possibility. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria flinches. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “Are you worried he’s getting hurt?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. But, I’d rather him than you,” Draco says, wondering if it’s really true. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria stands and comes to the bed, sitting on the edge, laying her head on his knee, leaning back. “Draco, I don’t think you should have to choose which one of us you’d rather be hurt. You can blame me, if it’s easier.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want to be a martyr?” he asks, honestly, without malice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose I’m used to it. I don’t think I know how to be anything else other than the girl destined for misery,” she answers, honestly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you miserable?” he asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. When I’m with you, I’m not. I guess I’m just waiting for it to go wrong. With us.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am too,” he admits. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m supposed to be the positive one, but right now I think my sister is going to die tonight, and I think you do too. You just don’t want to tell me,” she said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who said you’re the positive one?” he asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it certainly isn’t you. I’ve never met anyone so doom and gloom.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” he apologizes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be. If you were making stupid jokes right now, I might hex you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not going to go wrong,” he whispered, sitting up. “We’re going to be fine. So is your sister.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think so?” she asks, looking up at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want it so,” he says, instead. She smiles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe that will be enough.” Astoria closes her eyes and  leans back against his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Were you praying?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Luna told me that if you repeat something into the universe enough, it will listen to you,” Astoria admits. Draco presses his lips into her hair and sighs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything is going to be okay,” he says. He says it again, and again, until Astoria reaches for him, dragging his lips down to hers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. About your father,” she says, again. He sighs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need you. I don’t need him,” he says, simply. That much, at least, is true. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0076"><h2>76. Daphne</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Daphne is sitting in a Center classroom, in a class designed to reorient her way of thinking. She doesn’t know why her thinking needs to be reoriented if they are killing her in a matter of days. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A woman, with her hair pulled back into a neat bun  is lecturing and Daphne wonders whether or not it is even worth listening to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Dark Lord is more than just our leader. He is our God. He can see what we think about, he knows everything we do, and he is always right. He has conquered death itself,” the woman states. Daphne can already feel the words numbing her mind, wrapping around it like a heavy blanket. It’s always the same words. Why do they attend so many classes if it’s always the same words? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne thinks the woman is using her wand to make it hard to think. They turn the temperature in the room up, to make it warm, to make it easier to fall asleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne used to teach a class with Pansy, but it had been a recreational course, and they had never used magic, never tried to make anyone sluggish. In fact, Daphne had no idea this sort of thing was going on. The Ministry told them to teach, talk to the patients about things such as table manners and etiquette, and so they did. But, they never tried to take someone’s mind. That’s another reason Daphne had gotten married. When you were married they didn’t make you work. She had kept coming back out of guilt or fear, not wanting to abandon the people she had worked with, out of a sense of duty. That’s why she did everything she has ever done in life; duty is what drives her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, it’s not just the woman’s wand that is the problem. Andromeda eats little food and she barely drinks any water, and she tells Daphne it's because she thinks the food and water has potions in it, drugs. Daphne has stopped eating, but she can’t stop drinking. She gets too thirsty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything is so muddled. Her thoughts spin around and around and they don’t make sense to her. They are confusing and they are simple, and she can’t focus on one train of thought for long, before she is jumping to the next. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are here, because you are valuable. The Dark Lord doesn’t want to throw you away. He wants to help you. But, you have to realize that because you are here, you are an unreliable source in your own mind. That is why, it is best to listen to what someone else tells us. Whether that be your husbands, your wives, your parents, your boss, and most importantly, the Dark Lord, you must listen. You must do as directed,” the woman continues. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne wishes there was a window in this classroom. She feels claustrophobic. She feels trapped. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You feel trapped because you are trapped,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Daphne thinks to herself, and the swirling in her mind seems to intensify around that thought, trying to cover it up and stifle it. Daphne desperately fights back, but she is so tired. So tired and so warm and she doesn’t have energy for anything anymore. Astoria would use a word that fit the term better than drowsy. What would Astoria say? Lethargic. That is a word she would use. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to pass around a set of questions for a brief written exam. Remember, every test you pass, the closer you are to being reacclimated into society,” the woman says. The woman is wearing alligator skin pumps and Daphne thinks they are the ugliest she has ever seen.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman places a test in front of Daphne, and she glances down at the piece of parchment, the words swimming before her eyes. Is it because of the magic or is it because she hasn’t eaten? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne doesn’t bother to take the test. Even if she got perfect marks, they’d still kill her. Trapped. Perhaps that’s the only way to escape. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman tells her that if she doesn’t take the test, she will have to meet with Healer Midgen. It is too much effort for Daphne to respond. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne doesn’t see the point of meeting with Healer Midgen. She is going to die anyway. What does it matter if she dies mad? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That is one thing she and Healer Midgen agree on. Daphne is going mad. She is paranoid, and has taken to frequent bouts of shaking and nausea, and she cannot keep anything down. She jumps at the slightest sound and she is content sitting, staring into space, for as long as she is left alone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Healer Midgen thinks that time spent doing an activity might help. Daphne thinks that if Rodolphus stopped coming to see her, screaming at her, shaking her, entering her mind, searching for things that she simply doesn’t have the answers to, she might not be so nervous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mrs. Nott, I think the best thing to do, for you, is the rest cure. If doing an activity, like taking a test, is causing you distress, perhaps you better lie down, and be sure not to move, not to excite yourself,” Healer Midgen says, placing a hand on her knee, squeezing lightly. Daphne lurches away, suddenly nauseous again. Healer Midgen seemed to be more attracted to her the worst her mental state got, and she doesn’t want him to touch her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Healer Midgen spews more nonsense, and when he leaves, Daphne moves to the small adjoining bathroom to shower. She sits on the floor of the shower for hours. She is wasting water. She shouldn’t shower this long. She should get up and move. She should do something. She doesn’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rodolphus is coming today. She doesn’t want to be in the shower when he gets here, and that is perhaps the only thing that motivates her to stand, legs shaking, dress, and sit in her room. She hates this room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Later that day, Rodolphus sits across from her, which she is none too happy about. He lifts a tea cup, drinking from it slowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It seems we were wrong. Your sister has not made an appearance,” Rodolphus says, leaning forward, setting his teacup on the end table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My sister is not stupid. If she came for me, I’d kill her for you,” Daphne scoffs. Astoria is far away and it's clear the Death Eater’s can’t hurt her, wherever she is.  If they could have, they would have. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, Daphne. Don’t count us out yet. We will find them. Perhaps they enjoy cutting it close. What do you have, a week left?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I try not to keep count,” Daphne spits. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm. They are good at hiding. Everyone slips up eventually. They poke in places they shouldn’t, get lazy as time goes on.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not Malfoy. He can always slink away.” It’s true. Draco is remarkably good at making sure that no matter what, he is alive and safe. No matter who wins, no matter who comes out on top, Draco is right along with them. If he has changed allegiances, he must be sure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really? You think so? Perhaps you are counting on him to keep baby sister from trouble?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Astoria can look after herself. They aren’t coming and you won’t find them.” Daphne stands and crosses the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, if you do not mind, I’d like to spend my remaining days without your repugnant company. I’ve told you all I know, you’ve searched my head, picked my brain. I have nothing left to give you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rodolphus sneers, ready to stand and likely hurt her, but before he can, his hand clamps down around his left arm. Daphne sighs in relief. It seems Rodolphus has far more important people demanding his time than she. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pushes past her, and she closes the door behind him with a bang. Daphne sighs with relief, hardly believing her luck. Hopefully the Dark Lord would keep Rodolphus busy. She is worried he might search her mind and find her conversation with Pansy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t know if Pansy has made some sort of arrangement, and tries not to hope that she has. She shouldn’t want her friend to risk her life and her safety to help her. But, she is afraid of death. So afraid. Her fear makes it hard for her to be self-sacrificial. She is not as good at accepting her fate as Astoria, though her sister has had more practice in that department. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne hasn’t taken off her wedding ring. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She should. She doesn’t know why she doesn’t. At first she convinced herself she needed to keep it because it might keep Rodolphus at bay. Now, she didn’t quite know what to do with it. She had spent years of her life as a Death Eater’s wife, doing what she felt she had to do to keep herself and her family safe. She didn’t want to end up like Millicent Bulstrode, married to someone who hurt her. So, she had considered herself lucky. Besides, if she got married, Astoria wouldn’t have to. And that was important. Astoria already had it hard enough, and Daphne felt it was her personal responsibility to make her life easier in whatever way was possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She slides the ring down, until it is almost off her finger, before losing her nerve and pushing it back in its place. She wonders, with slight horror, if her fingers are getting fat. That ring never used to feel so tight. She should take it off. Nott is dead. He can’t protect her, and perhaps, he’d never wanted to. Not really. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a knock at the door, and Daphne jumps. She throws the door open, and breathes a sigh of relief. Andromeda. “Come in,” she says, breathlessly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andromeda walks in and says, “Are you alright? Lestrange looked angry. He was clutching his arm. Something else must have happened.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But, what?” Daphne says, sighing. What else could have happened? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. Hopefully something good,” Andromeda says, not doing a very good job of hiding her excitement. Daphne thinks they would have very different ideas of what something good meant. Daphne knows Andromeda wants a war. Daphne just wants to be done. She feels hollow and empty, a husk, and she knows she has felt this way for a long time, but now there were no silly parties or clothes to distract her from her lot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne glances out the window. Dusk is just falling and she sighs. Another day down and another day closer to the end of her life. Daphne cannot even pretend to be disappointed. Andromeda, as if sensing her thoughts, asks her if she wants to practice the harp in the music room. Daphne shakes her head. She only wants to lie down and sleep. She doesn’t have to think about things when she is asleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne wakes up sometime later, glancing out the window, at the night sky. She slips out of bed, and notices Andromeda is sleeping in the chair, having decided to stay with her. Daphne hadn’t even noticed Andromeda had stayed in the room after she lied down. It is hard for Daphne to notice much of anything now; it is hard for Daphne to break through her thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne stands, crossing the room, moving to stare listlessly out the window, wondering how she might die. They are angry enough to make it nasty, and she is afraid it will hurt. She wonders if it wouldn’t be better to jump out this window. It will certainly be less painful than the hours of torture she will undoubtedly receive. She shakes her head. She won’t do it. She won’t be able to work up the nerve. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is certainly quiet tonight, Daphne thinks, missing the usual lull of conversation coming from the sitting room, and even the conversation from the guards. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is too quiet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne moves to stand by Andromeda’s chair, shaking her shoulder, suddenly hit by a bout of nervous paranoia, which is becoming more and more frequent for her these days. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andromeda wakes, giving her a startled look. “Daphne. What is it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you feel that?” Daphne asks, her voice high and unstable sounding, making herself cringe. “Something isn’t right.” Daphne walks to the door, taking quiet, careful steps, opening the door softly, her bare feet padding on the carpet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andromeda stands and follows Daphne, the women walking out the door and down the hall. Daphne gasps, and holds her hand out, when she sees a guard slumped against the wall, blood trickling from his head. Daphne kneels beside him, feeling for a pulse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alive,” she whispers to Andromeda. “What on earth?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. Do you think it’s your sister?” Andromeda asks, carefully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne shakes her head. “No. She wouldn’t do this. She wouldn’t be that stupid.” Daphne’s voice trembles. If Astoria is here, everything is pointless. Everything she has ever done to protect her will be pointless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone comes around the corner, their wand pointed straight at Daphne and Andromeda. Daphne narrows her eyes, trying to see through the darkness, wondering who had turned off the lights. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daphne Greengrass?” the voice asks. She freezes, when she hears her maiden name. Had they sent this person to kill her ahead of schedule? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” she asks, voice trembling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on. I need you to come to the sitting room. That’s where everyone is,” the voice says. Daphne thinks she can make out a shadowy figure of a man. “Bring your friend,” he added. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne shakes her head. “She didn’t do anything wrong. Leave her alone, okay? I’ll come quietly but you—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! No. We aren’t here to kill you. Sorry. Should have led with that,” he says guiltily. Daphne shares a look with Andromeda who pulls Daphne to her feet and leads her in the direction of the sitting room, the only room which light is coming from. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne sees now, the figure leading them, and she stops, gasping. “Thomas? Dean Thomas?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. It’s me. Listen—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne takes a step back. “What are you doing here?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rescuing you,” he says, hopefully. Daphne takes another step back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why? Shouldn’t you be dead?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. But, aren’t you glad I’m not?” Thomas tries. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know yet,” Daphne admits. Had Pansy sent him? If so, how had he even found him. “Why?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean why?” Thomas, asks, shoving her into the sitting room, not unkindly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There, the entire Center is gathered, standing in huddles, not speaking, looking a little frightened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne gasps in surprise, glancing around the room, taking in the hoards of patients, all looking slightly scared. They see her, and some sigh with relief. They still see Daphne as an authority figure and it makes her stomach clench and twist, and guilt tears at her conscience. She can’t help them. She never could. She can’t even help herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miriam, a small girl of fifteen walks forward, towards Daphne, cutting through the throngs of patients. Miriam should be at Hogwarts right now, getting an education, not sitting in a room all day, and worse, having her mind filled with mind-numbing information in reeducation classes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daphne, what’s happening? Do you know—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I don’t. But I know they have wands and we don’t. So stay quiet, okay?” Daphne hisses, cutting her off. Miriam looks frightened, but she gives a single nod and manages to steel herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We were sitting here and they just—” Miriam starts, trying to explain. “They came out of nowhere. I don’t know how they got in, but they took out the guards. I have no idea if Marietta is okay. I hope she went home for the night before they got here, but sometimes she stays late.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did they say anything?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. They’ve just been going around, telling everyone to gather in this room. They’ve gotten everyone from the dining room, the music room, the library. Most people weren’t asleep, because it’s still fairly early in the evening, but they’ve just been clearing the bedrooms upstairs,” Miriam whispers, voice so quiet Daphne can barely hear her. “They said once everyone was together, they’d explain. They told us to stay quiet,” Miriam says, simply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That is what the Center does. It conditions you to follow directions. The only problem is, they don’t exactly make much distinction about whose directions you should follow. Miriam just knows, when someone tells her to do something, she does it. Without complaint or question. She has been here a long time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some of the newer patients whisper quietly to each other, nervously. Is this some sort of exam they didn’t know about? The Center often tested them, but usually it was an oral exam or a written exam. Never a practical exam. However, they weren’t not going to follow directions. Maybe, if they did well, they could leave. Yes, Daphne thinks. That would be exactly what was running through everyone’s minds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne leans over, and whispers to Andromeda. “They think it’s a test. I don’t think it is. Do you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andromeda shakes her head. “I’ve been here a long time, and they’ve never done a test like this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne is already tired. She drank water before bed and now she can’t think. She shouldn’t have given in to the thirst. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she first got here, she was able to resist the potion pulling at her brain, but the longer she is exposed to it, the harder it has become. Daphne is barely able to fight it at all. If these strange people want her to sit and wait, she will. What does she care? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two more patients are led in followed by two men she vaguely recognizes. She thinks one might be Finnegan and the other one looks familiar, but she can’t tell who he is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of them, the one Daphne can’t quite place, pushes to the center of the room. “I need all of you to listen to me very carefully.” His voice is cold and hard. He looks like a calculated, rough sort and she is immediately nervous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are giving you a chance to leave this place. For good. But, you have to come with us, and you have to follow directions. We aren’t telling you who we are nor what we want with you,” he continues, giving them all an unsparing look. Daphne raises an eyebrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When we get to a more secure location, when will fully disclose who we are, and give you a choice to either come with us, or stay in the country. Whether or not you do, is up to you. We won’t harm you. A few of you may choose not to leave the Center at all, and that’s fine. We won’t force anyone to go. But, if you aren’t leaving, we need to know now,” he says, staring at them, waiting. Daphne thinks that whoever he is, he is foolish. He talks of choices and ifs, and it is difficult to make her mind move that way, and impossible for those who had been here a long time. Except Andromeda. She is made of stronger stuff than Daphne ever has been, and likely any person at the Center. Andromeda’s shrewd eyes cut through the fog and she smiles slightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds good,” Andromeda whispers to Daphne. “I think they are rescuing us. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one else at the Center seems to be able to come to the same conclusion. The patients all stare at him, blinking impassively, confused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A choice?” Miriam asks, nervously. “Like the tests. Well, you have to give us a lecture beforehand. Otherwise, we aren’t going to know the right answer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man blinks at her. “What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this a test? Because I haven’t ever had a test that wanted me to make a decision by myself. There is always a right answer,” Jonathan, an thirty year-old man, who has been here a very long time, says. Everyone murmurs in agreement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daphne, what is the right answer? You used to tell us what those were. If we say the right answer we can leave,” someone dreamily asks, and they all turn toward her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m dying,” Daphne says, simply, as if that covered it. Why were they asking her when she will be dying? Andromeda grabs Daphne’s shoulders, shaking her, giving her a light slap to the face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not if you leave with these people, Daphne. Did you hear? They want us to leave. Get out. Scram. Make a break for it,” the older woman explains. Daphne focuses on the clarifying sting in her cheek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man’s face morphs into recognition when he sees her, and he makes his way to her, grabbing her arm, tugging her away from Andromeda and into a hallway. Daphne tries not to panic or scream. Andromeda looks worried, but doesn’t move. Why isn’t she helping her? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man shoves Daphne against a wall, not hard, but as if he were trying to wake her up. “Hey. What’s with you? What’s with them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne blinks hard. Pain. That helps her think, helps her focus. It’s why she always thought better when Rodolphus came to see her. She takes her fingernails and presses into her hand hard, feeling the fog slip away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’ve been conditioned. They put stuff in the food, in the water. Potions. I don’t know what sort but they make it hard to think. You just want to follow directions. You will have to give us directions,” she says, digging the nails in hard. If she could break through, like she used to be able to only a few days ago, she would be able to think. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who are you?” Daphne whispers. The man gives her a long look, as if she is everything he feared she would be, and as if every minute spent talking with her is causing him some great inconvenience. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your sister sent us. Okay? Come with us, and you can see her.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She isn’t here, is she? She should be far away. Very far away,” Daphne says, the fog tightening it’s hold. She throws her head back against the wall behind her, hard. The crack echoed and the man gave her an alarmed look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s mad,” she thinks she hears him mutter, and he is right. She probably is. But, the pain in her head chases the fog away, and everything is clearer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, Astoria sent you? To rescue me? Is she here?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. She’s back at camp.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Camp,” Daphne repeats. A camp signified a place, a home base of sorts. Who would need a camp? Is it her sister's camp? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are all of you—” The man pauses, hesitating. “Like this?” he finished.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. On the potions. If we could stop taking them, I think we could think normally, clearly. But, we have to eat and we have to drink. So, we don’t have a choice.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, none of them will come with us,” Neville says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They will. But, you’ll have to tell them to. None of this, “it’s up to you’, foolishness. Nothing has been up to them or up to anyone in a very long time,” Daphne says, focussing on the throbbing in her head, wishing it was stronger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine. Listen, you need to come with us first. We are smuggling everyone out, but we are taking you on the first run,” he orders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fog creeps back, becoming impossibly thick at the direct order, but she fights it off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Take me last. If I leave the others will get nervous,” Daphne says, fighting to keep control. “Don’t order me. It makes it hard to think. Order them but don’t order me,” Daphne adds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man sighed. “You have to do whatever I say, don’t you.” Daphne panicked and lashed out, and his wrist caught her hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was a question! Not a threat. I’m just trying to understand. I don’t have a lot of time tonight, and I need to know the mechanics of  how this is working. Don’t—” He stops abruptly. “If you could not hit me, I’d appreciate it,” he finishes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne stills, breathing hard. “Get them out. I’ll help you. Then, get me. Hurry. Please.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man nods and leads her back into the sitting room, where the patients still stand in a stupor, waiting for the right answer, whispering nervously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright! Listen. You are going to do as I say.” Thomas and Finnigan give him a look, shaking their heads. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, wait. Look Neville. That isn’t right—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. I don’t really have a choice,” he says, cutting them off. Daphne tilts her head to the side, considering him, surprised when Thomas said his name. He looks nothing like Neville Longbottom. This man is dour and resolute; there was something unyielding about him, as if he had seen far too much to be nice any longer. He is lean, taller, and decidedly a threatening presence, though whether it will be threatening to her she cannot tell. Daphne swallows, nervously. If this is Neville Longbottom then who was he working with? Could it be—no. Those thoughts will get her killed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now. Seamus is going to take three of you down into the basement, and into a tunnel that used to be an old sewer. Once you’re past the wards, you will apparate with him. Five minutes later Dean will leave with another group of three to the entrance of the tunnel, and Seamus will pick them up. We keep moving until everyone is out, understand?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There are nods of affirmation around the room, and Daphne can see their minds latch onto the directions like a lifeline. The potions allow them to think about the directions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When it isn’t your turn, you wait quietly. Don’t make a sound, don’t move, don’t do anything but stay still. Go that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne watches as everyone freezes where they stand, lips pressing together, breathing as quietly as possible. She fights not to do the same. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andromeda turns to Daphne, and whispers, “What did he say to you? If that’s Neville Longbottom, do you think he’s with the—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t say their name. Please. I don’t know who might be listening,” Daphne whispers. “My sister is with them, okay? If Rodolphus comes back and searches my mind, and he finds out more than a face and a name, he may be able to find her and I—” Daphne stops, throat closing with tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’ve figured out something, don’t tell me. Rodolphus wasn’t finished when he left. He may come back tomorrow. But, it wouldn’t be the first time he comes back at night,” Daphne says, again. She glances down, and realizes she is wearing a long, thin, white nightdress. She should put robes on. She isn’t supposed to leave this room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Longbottom points at Miriam, probably because she is the youngest, and two elderly women. “You three are first. Follow Seamus. Do what he tells you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne watches as Miriam and the two women follow his directions, looking relieved now that they aren’t being asked to do ridiculous things like decide for themselves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, they must feel something is different, because one man, about thirty, named Claude Felmont, asks, “Why are the guards unconscious? Don’t they work for the Dark Lord? They shouldn’t be unconscious.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Several whispers start up and Daphne raises her hand. They quiet immediately. “Perhaps that is part of the test,” she lies, evenly. “Those guards were getting rather nasty, don’t you think?” Daphne asks. There are several calls of agreement, and Longbottom fixes her with a curious expression. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The guards had started to become bored. Sometimes, they would hurt the patients. It was getting more and more frequent and Daphne was sure she had been spared only because Rodolphus had already laid claim to her. “It is better for us if they are unconscious,” Daphne points out, watching them look at each other. Yes, yes. Better. Daphne had stated it as a fact, and they were going to take it as a fact. It would be too difficult to try and form an opinion about the fact, too difficult to fight the potions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On and on it went. Andromeda was one of the first to go, though she offered to stay with Daphne. Daphne refused. Andromeda had been waiting for this for a long time, and Daphne wasn’t going to take it from her. That would be cruel. She regretted her decision when Andromeda left. Andromeda had become her very dear friend and Daphne is immediately sick to her stomach with worry and fear the moment Andromeda leaves with Finnegan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The guards aren’t dead, and Longbottom has been working to haul them into the sitting room, Thomas helping them when he is waiting for Finnegan to get back. They take the guards wands and bind them. How they had managed to stun them all so quietly and without a sound, Daphne doesn’t know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In fact, the Center is so quiet, Daphne imagines that someone could be downstairs in the offices, and not hear a thing. Daphne wonders if Healer Midgen has clocked out yet. She twists nervously, and shakes her head. He hasn’t. He doesn’t have a family, as he is fond of telling her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She makes her way to Longbottom, who is dragging another guard in whose head lolls to the side. “There is a Healer downstairs with some nurses,” she whispers. “He might come in. Stay quiet.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods, and opens his mouth, but a stair creaks, the sound cutting through the silence of the quiet Center. Daphne grips his shoulder, tightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stay here. Stay quiet. I’ll distract him,” she whispers, though her stomach rolls. Here she is, doing what she does best. She tries to fight the nausea piling up in her stomach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Longbottom must see her expression because he says, “What? I’ll just—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He might shout if he sees you and that could alert a nurse. You won’t be able to get behind him, unseen. Just wait until he passes you in the hall. I can lead him this far.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne slips out and meets Healer Midgen on the stairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mrs. Nott? If you are dressed for bed, shouldn’t you be in bed?” he asks, his eyes filled with false concern. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I cannot sleep. I cannot,” she whispers, making her voice as frail as possible. He wants her to be frail. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m afraid,” she whispers. “I’m going to die,” she says. He gives her a sad look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is a shame. Really. Mrs. Nott, where is everyone? It is so quiet. It is only eight in the evening. Are all of you really in bed? The nurses are downstairs and wanted to check, but I said I would,” he tells her, puffing his chest out, as if she should be grateful he personally is coming to check on her. Daphne hadn’t known what time it was. There are no clocks in the Center. She had assumed it was later. She needs to get Midgen off the stairs. If Longbottom stuns him here, it would make a thump, loud. The nurses would hear and come running. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everyone is tired. We are always tired,” Daphne says, shaking her head, taking a small step back. Midgen follows her, almost as if he doesn’t know he is doing it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can walk you back to your room, Mrs. Nott,” Healer Midgen said, his eyes dropping over her frame, almost imperceptibly. Daphne wishes she had put on robes before she left her room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Please. I don’t want to go back alone,” she whispers, ignoring the swim of guilt and shame churning in her stomach. She turns walking up the stairs, each step creaking, and she wonders how Finnegan is getting everyone down without making noise. Perhaps he knows a spell Daphne does not. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Healer Midgen places his hand on her, pressing against the small of her back. A few more steps. His hand drifts slightly lower and Daphne’s feet land on the soft carpet, and a few steps later, there is a flash of red light, and Healer Midgen falls backwards, the carpet muffling the sound. Longbottom stands there, staring at her for a long moment. She slides past him, cheeks burning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d help you carry him, but I haven’t eaten in a few days,” she tells him, before slipping back in the sitting room. “Watch for the nurses,” Daphne whispers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bit by bit, the group in the sitting room gets smaller and smaller. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, it is just Daphne, and two other men, both young and nervous looking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. I’ll take you three and—” Neville begins, interrupted by a loud crash downstairs and angry yelling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where the fuck is she?” Rodolphus can be heard yelling from downstairs. Daphne freezes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lestrange,” she whispers, and Longbottom tenses immediately at the name. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have to get out. Listen, take them. Get out. You won’t be able to sneak past him. He uses legilimency,” Daphne pleads, pushing him towards the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll duel him— </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He can’t see you, Longbottom! If you are with who I think you’re with, then he can’t. He could break into your mind. He’ll see where everyone is hiding. He will know every plan, every thought. You can’t let him near you. You and Thomas need to take these two and leave. Now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is another crash downstairs and Daphne rushes into the hall, wondering if she should try to run. He is so angry. Why? Something else must have happened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Longbottom and the others stay crouched in the sitting room, waiting for Rodolphus to pass, waiting until they can sneak around him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hears Rodolphus come up the stairs, and she sees his shadow looming over her on the wall before she sees him, cresting the last step. His face is beaten and bloody, and his body is decorated with bruises. Someone upset their master. Rodolphus sneers and steps forward and Daphne fights the urge to turn and run. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They took it,” he whispers, hands shaking, pulling out his wand, his fingers curled around it tightly. “Your rotten sister helped him take it. I know she did,” he seethed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne sighed tiredly. “Yes. The wand. I know. Are you hear about that beca—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her words were cut off when Rodolphus flicked his wand, sending her crashing down the hall. “The cup!” he shouts. “They stole the fucking cup. And now, we are all to suffer. He hurt me, because you couldn’t do your job and report them the minute you knew! The minute you knew she was alive you should have said something. And now!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne sees the group exit the sitting room, and down the hall Longbottom meets her eyes, as Thomas and the last two men slip away unnoticed, down the stairs. He raises his wand, but she gives a minute shake of her head. He can’t beat Rodolphus. He wouldn’t be fast enough before Rodolphus would use legilimency. He seems to realize it to, because he turns and he heads down the stairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, I’m going to hurt you far worse then the Dark Lord hurt me,” he says, flicking his wand again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s the cruciatus curse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne has never felt it. Never. And, it is so horrible, a white-hot, blinding pain, pulsing through every nerve of her body with top speed, leaving her nails to dig into the carpet, trying to find purchase on something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lifts the curse and Daphne leaps to her feet, tearing down the hall and into the library. She doesn’t have a wand and she has no way to defend herself. She is breathing hard and she can feel him move behind her, steps slow and lazy, as if he knows she won’t get far, or perhaps he is too injured to move fast. She spies a decorative vase on a pedestal next to a bookshelf, and she races toward it, picking it up and smashing it against the wall. The shards spill onto the floor and she grabs the longest one, a jagged piece, wicked sharp, and darts behind a bookshelf, trying to slow her breathing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She clutches the shard so hard that blood trickles down her fingers. Rodolphus enters the library, his footsteps growing louder and louder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daphne? Daphne,” he calls, with a sick sort of coveting.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She is silent, hot tears racing down her cheeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come out. Maybe, if you listen to me, I’ll kill you quickly.” The potion swarms her brain at the order, weaker though. It always wears off with time. And her adrenaline is enough to fight it. She waits until she sees the tip of his shoe, leaning back against the bookshelf, the novels digging into her back. Just a little farther. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He isn’t using his legilimency. She thinks about what he said to her once, about him only using it if he felt like it. It made things boring, he said. Made the chase less exhilarating. She prays he is bored tonight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There he is, just behind the side of the shelf. If he looks to the left he will see her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She spins out from behind the shelf and drives the shard into his chest. It sinks in, and he staggers back, a furious expression on his face. He isn’t dead. Not even close. It is painful, she can tell, because he gives her a controlled, angry expression, and Daphne blanches. When he is in control he is at his worst.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He rips out the shard, and tosses it to the ground. He might die from the wound if he doesn’t heal himself, but he has a wand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She thinks for a moment, how terrifying it must be to be a muggle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You absolute fucking whore,” he croons, softly, raising his wand. “When I’m done with you, I wonder if you’ll even be good for that anymore.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He flicks his wand, almost casual in his malice, and her leg snaps painfully, the bone shattering, causing her to fall to the ground in a heap, her scream of pain echoing off the walls of the library. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, he enters her mind, tearing at it, clawing at it, trying to tear it to pieces. He probably will. It’s always been weak. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something in Rodolphus’s expression changes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something flickers across it, like surprise, anger, and glee, as if he has just found something he thought long gone. Daphne glances behind him and her eyes widen as she sees Neville with his wand raised. Rodolphus must sense another mind. He goes to turn around, likely to explore the new mind his magic can feel. Before he can, there is a flash of bright green light, and Rodolphus falls on top of her, dead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has always been a broad, big, muscular man and he crushes Daphne. She screams as he falls on her leg and she can feel her world fade into black and she fights to stay conscious, though she doesn’t know why. It would be easier if she let the darkness take her.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Longbottom reaches them and hauls Rodolphus from her. He killed someone. She thought that his lot didn’t kill people, and the revelation that he did is in some ways, shocking. Rodolphus is dead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He crouches down beside her muttering something she can’t hear. His hands dance along her form, examining her for injuries. Can he not see her leg? It’s jutting out, twisted and horrible looking. His fingers ghost across the skin and she gasps, fresh tears spilling.  “Come on. Get up,” he says, and Daphne feels the potion pushing her to comply. She tries but she can’t put any weight on her leg. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her head throbs after the legilimency. He has used it on her so many times and now, he has finally fractured her mind. She is sure of it. Everything feels so far away and disjointed, and words and thoughts are hard to string together. There is really only pain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Longbottom places an arm under her knees and lifts her and her leg jostles against his side, and she lets out a scream of pain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quiet,” he hissed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have to leave,” Daphne says, her words delirious sounding, murmuring against the crook of his neck. She can’t remember why he has to leave, though. She can feel the thought rolling around her mind, like a marble across the ground. That’s what it feels like. Like there had been a glass case of marbles, that Rodolphus had smashed, and now they roll in all different directions, impossible to catch and impossible to stop. She can only chase them, around and around in circles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Planning on it. There are more Death Eaters downstairs. They came with Rodolphus. Thomas managed to get past, but I can’t fight with you like this. We can’t go that way, alright? Do you know another way—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The window,” Daphne says, the thought jumping out, before disappearing just as quickly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, Greengrass. Think.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She can’t. She wants to tell him she can’t. She likes hearing her maiden name. When she figures out why, she can tell him that too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Greengrass. What—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a crash and Longbottom curses, hoisting her up and moving toward the window. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smashes it and steps onto the narrow ledge. Daphne wants to scream, the height dizzying. She hadn’t really meant the window. She hadn’t really meant—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They are jumping and Daphne wonders why they wanted to—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Longbottom mutters a cushioning charm, and they stop in midair, before dropping to the cement. Daphne gasps, as she lands on her leg, the pain taking all her focus. The marbles can agree on one thing. Her leg hurts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Longbottom lifts her again and ducks behind an alleyway, dodging a curse. He hurries outside the bounds of the Center’s wards, curses narrowly missing them.  He grabs his wand and Daphne can feel them apparating, feeling the pull of the magic as her world disappears around her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne can smell salt in the air and a marble slides across the smooth wooden floor of her mind, telling her it must be the ocean, before slipping away again, and she can’t remember why she might think that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She is sure that Longbottom must be trying to drown her and she struggles weakly. “Stop,” he says, stepping into the water. She doesn’t. That is one thing about her mind, now. The marbles move too fast for the potion to smother. She laughs. She has quite literally lost her marbles. She used to think it was an odd expression but now she understands it perfectly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She is vaguely aware of a current taking her out to sea and she wonders why. Why are they swimming? The waves hurt her leg and she is far too tired to swim. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She feels herself being submerged in water, great current pulling her under. She gasps, fighting to take one last breath before it pulls her under. She must have been squirming, because Longbottom’s grip tightens, making sure she doesn’t slip away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The current pulls them down, and she can feel the water pressure build, and her ears start to hurt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes are closed, so as not to get water in them, and it occurs to her that she is falling through the air, a sensation not usually felt in water. She opens her eyes, to find herself no longer drifting toward the seafloor, but falling through the air, through a large underground cavern. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A pool of water is fast approaching and her scream of pain is muffled when she slams through the surface of the water. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neville is pulling her up with him, kicking to get her to the side of the pool and Daphne wonders, when he lifts her out of the water, if she is actually dry, or if she is imagining it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>People are rushing forward and she hears someone call her name, and wrapping their arms around her. They are a blur of dark hair and tear-filled eyes and Daphne should know who they are. She does, but everything is so scattered she can’t quite find the words. She just knows that she is incredibly happy to see them. Her eyes drift shut, blackness swallowing her, and she is no longer able to fight the pull of unconsciousness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0077"><h2>77. Astoria</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Are we going?” Draco asks, laying beside her. Astoria drags her fingers across his chest, drawing small circles and squares. And a smiley face. Then, a little giraffe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. They are waiting until they get everyone there before we’re allowed to go to the Market,” Astoria whispers. “Waiting is awful. Just sitting still and waiting to be fetched.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco hums quietly. “I suppose that explains our earlier activities. Are you sufficiently distracted?” She notices that he has stiffened and she kisses his chest lightly, right over the little giraffe that she can see and he can not. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. But, I felt safer. Less like my world was about to fall apart. More than it already has, that is.” Astoria runs her fingers through his hair, smirking as he presses his head into her head, nuzzling the inside of her wrist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get dressed. If they come in…” Draco murmurs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose Potter would see me naked,” Astoria says, rolling out of bed and standing, bending over to reach her clothes. She feels a light tap to her bum and she gasps, spinning around. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco gives her a stern look. “He better not.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was kidding,” Astoria says, blushing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm,” he says, rolling over, his head burying in the pillow. Astoria tugs on her jeans hurriedly and slips a jumper over her chest. “Come back,” he groans. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Baby,” Astoria teases, sitting back down and running her fingers down his spine. Draco shudders as her hand trails toward his left arm and she brushes over the mark as if it isn’t there, continuing the same pattern on his right arm. Astoria wonders if it’s bad, to not feel safe unless you're with one person. It definitely is. She can’t become dependent. Draco rolls over to face her and she smiles softly at him as he takes her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shouldn’t you get dressed?” Astoria asks, blushing as the sheets shift. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should. Pass me my clothes,” he says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are very lazy,” Astoria playfully admonished, grabbing his discarded clothes and throwing them over his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grumbles and stands, pulling them on. Astoria groans, flopping down on the bed. “It’s taking them a long time. Too long.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm,” Draco says. She can tell that something is bothering him and his left arm twitches, before laying next to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think something is wrong,” she said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do,” he admitted. “I think a lot of things could go wrong.” Astoria frowned. This was her idea. If it didn’t go well she might be blamed and her sister might be dead. Draco smooths his hand over her hair, almost absentmindedly. “It’s not your fault if they do,” he murmurs, his fingers now massaging her scalp. She feels tired, and though she feels slightly guilty sleeping, when her sister could be in danger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next moment she is aware, Draco is shaking her gently. “Time to go,” he whispers as Astoria slowly lifts her head from his chest. She turns red when she realizes there is an audience of Hermione and she is grateful they decided not to forgo clothes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grabs her wand and slips on her shoes, watching as Hermione leaves. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Astoria stands near the entrance to the market, furious. They had decided, after all, to get her sister last. She is shaking with anger, annoyed at Draco who can stand there so quietly and stoically, his face completely hidden by the hood of his cloak. She is glad they let him come along this time. She needs him here. Even if he is getting on her nerves.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hand gently glides down her arm. “It’s alright. They just left. She will be here with the last group.” He is trying. She feels guilty that she was so annoyed with him and hopes that he didn’t realize it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sees a group drop from the sky and into the pool and she gasps. Thomas, Finnegan, and a few others are there. Her sister and Neville are not. Why wouldn’t they have come together? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thomas drags himself out of the pool, ushering the last few patients out, who look very concerned, and when they see Astoria, they gasp and huddle together. Thomas walks toward her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lestrange came.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which one. There are three,” Astoria snaps, fear running through her veins, clenching her heart. Draco lets her lean against him, a hand pressed to the small of her back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Er. One of the men,” he says, and Astoria huffs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Big? Or kind of skinny,” Draco asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not fat, or anything. Like, he was very buff. But—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rodolphus, then,” Draco whispers and Astoria groans. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To kill her, then?” Astoria asks</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, we think so. Ahead of schedule, and he seemed really angry. So, we don’t know the specifics behind why. She told us to leave her behind—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daphne wouldn’t have said that,” Astoria says, suspicious. It’s true. Her sister operates on self-preservation; the idea she would be so self-sacrificial is unlikely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She thought if we stayed Lestrange might find you. Neville went back for her. We told him not to, but he did.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And? Is he a good duellist?” Astoria asks. Draco winces beside her and she can see all the times she saw him use the leg-locking curse on Neville racing through her brain. Great. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very. One of our best. He’s beaten Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny—not every time, mind you. But, he has gotten a lot better. Astoria sighed and slumped against Draco. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her sister hadn’t come yet. It had been nearly half-an hour and he still hadn’t come. She was crying and her fingers were moving wildly along the stone wall of the cavern, hidden behind her back, until Draco took her hand away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your fingers,” he says, showing her the pads of her fingers. They were red and raw. “Sorry,” she says. He takes out his wand, tapping it against each pad of her finger and she watches them heal instantly. “You're better at magic than you were,” she says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” he asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better. I mean, you were a good wizard before. Just, now that you have your wand, you're fantastic,” Astoria said, as Draco directed her hand to his arm, letting her feel the fabric of his sleeve. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fantastic?” he jokes. Astoria elbows him, chewing on the inside of her lip as she watches the pool anxiously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she sees her sister crash in the water she rushes forward and meets her at the side of the pool, where Neville is holding her up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened?” Astoria gasps as she throws her arms around her unconscious sister. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rodolphus. Broke her leg. I think he may have done something to her mind, but I’m not sure. You said she was mad before so I couldn’t tell—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did not!” Astoria seethes. Neville is still clutching Daphne, her head resting on his shoulder. Astoria sees Daphne’s leg and she reaches out to touch it, stopping when she notices just how bad it looks. The bone looks shattered and it just against her skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on. Where can I put her?” Neville asks. Draco had followed her and he curses when he sees Daphne’s leg. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll take her,” Draco says, holding out his arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got her. Where?” Neville insists. Astoria leads them down twisting streets and into a small, tavern buried near the back of the market. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry and Hermione are here; Ron stayed behind. Astoria thinks it may have made more sense for Harry to stay behind, but he was the face of the movement. The patients are sitting in groups at tables or huddled on the floor whispering quietly amongst themselves. A few of them turn toward Astoria, and when they see Daphne, there is a heightened frantic quality to their whispers, though they never cross the threshold of loud. Harry and Hermione are whispering in the corner, shaking their heads, their eyes widening when they see Daphne.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neville enters in after her and Astoria climbs the stairs, gesturing to a small bed in one of the rooms. Neville sets Daphne down, mindful of her leg. Draco comes in behind them and pulls out his wand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can fix her. It’s just a broken leg, Astoria,” he says, giving her shoulder a light squeeze. Astoria knows that he has fixed way worse, her muscles tensing as she remembered Bellatrix’s curse. But, that was with the power of the Elder Wand. Who knows if he can fix her sister’s leg? She has never seen a break so grisly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please,” Astoria says. “And the bruises. And her hands,” Astoria says, picking up her hands that are marred by a deep cut, as if they were gripping something very sharp. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can do it. I can do it all, no problem,” Draco soothes, tracing his wand over her sister’s face, and Astoria breathes a sigh of relief when she watches the bruises fade away, Draco’s low murmuring filling the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Her ribs,” Neville says. “I think he may have cracked them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco nods. “Okay. I may let Granger do that, if she can,” Draco says, looking toward the door at Hermione, who Astoria hadn’t even realized had entered the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I can,” Hermione says briskly. “Can you not?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can. But, a woman probably should,” he said quietly. Astoria watches as his wand glides over Daphne’s hands, the cut healing. “The leg will be painful,” he warns. Draco turns to her leg and taps his wand against it, saying clearly, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Brackium Emendo</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Daphne’s leg jerks and with a pop, snaps back into a neat, vertical line. Daphne wakes up at that, screaming terribly. Draco winces and gives Astoria an apologetic look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria brushes past him, kneeling by Daphne. “Daphne? It’s me.” Daphne’s chest rises and falls rapidly and her eyes roam the room frantically, wide with panic. Daphne grabs Astoria’s arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are we late?” she asks. Astoria’s stomach drops. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” she asks cautiously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. It rolled away,” Daphne sobs, looking at her leg with some relief. “It hurts. It’s fixed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Yes, it is,” Astoria says, quietly. “Daphne, what happened?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was a whore,” she whispers, lying back down, closing her eyes. “It was bound to catch up to me eventually. No one is fucked forever.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daphne!” gasps Astoria. “You are not! Don’t say that,” Astoria pleads. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne says, “My fingers are becoming fat.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neville gives Astoria a look, as if to say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>See? I told you.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Rodolphus used legilimency. It’s possible that her mind fractured,” Neville offers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can it be fixed?” asks Astoria, looking at Draco. He knows about things like this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As I understand it,” Draco began, carefully, “fracturing the mind is when a legilimens shatters the walls and boundaries, if you will, of the mind.” Astoria lets out a choked sob and Draco pulls her off the floor, wrapping an arm around her. “It’s taking away the ability to dichotomize or categorize thoughts. Thoughts, memories, personality traits, all that makes up the mind, is jumbled and out of order. It can be reconstructed, but it will take some work. Astoria, I’m not an expert legilimens. I don’t know if Granger is, but one of us could try.” Astoria sinks to her knees again, running her hand over her sister’s forehead, as if she could coax order back to her mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does she know who I am?” asks Astoria. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Draco says, now sitting beside her on the dirty floor. Astoria loves him for that. “She does. But, your name, Astoria, is floating around untethered. It doesn’t match with the word, sister, and the memories of your face and your time together. She might see the memory of, say, your stick races, but it will be totally separate from all the other premises involved, like who you are, what you mean, and when and where. Not that those premises are gone. They just are no longer connected. That’s really what has to be done. Connect them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you need legilimency?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, not necessarily. She can form new connections. She may recover on her own. Right now, when she is tired, in a lot of pain, and experienced recent trauma, is not the best time to assess how extensive the damage is. It may not be as bad as we think. But, I’ll be honest. It could be very bad.” Draco says. Hermione gives him a dirty look, but Astoria likes that Draco always gives things to her straight. She needs the truth right now. “I’ll try, though. I’ll do what I can.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria looks at him hopefully, but his expression is dark. She realizes that he may not be able to do it. She kisses his cheek. “Thanks. Even if you can’t. Thank you for trying.” She stands and Draco stands with her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looks at Neville. “Thank you. For going back for her.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neville is staring at Daphne with a curious expression. “Yeah. Yeah, sure.” Astoria smiles at him tiredly, before sitting on the edge of her sister’s bed, smoothing her hand over her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even now, Daphne looked far more beautiful than Astoria could ever hope to look. Her father used to call her Venus and Astoria knows that isn’t far from the truth. Astoria sighs and lays her head down on her sister’s chest, hearing her heartbeat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d forgotten,” Hermione murmurs, looking at Daphne. “How pretty she is. It’s special almost.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a curse, in a way,” Astoria whispers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are about to start the meeting. Do you—” Hermione stops, as if not sure how to finish. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I’ll stay. Draco can go and tell me what happens,” Astoria says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco nods. “Okay. If you want to go I can sit with her,” he offers. Astoria only shakes her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neville and Hermione leave, Hermione calling, “Five minutes,” over her shoulder. Astoria turns to Draco and smiles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you. For healing her.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco nods, running a thumb down the side of her face. “Of course.” Astoria lets her head drop to his chest as he wraps his arms around her. He is warm and solid, while Astoria feels as though her body might dissolve. What if Daphne is like this forever? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco’s hand glides down her spine and she sighs. She doesn’t want him to leave, but he pulls back. “I’m going downstairs. I’ll be back soon.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria nods and Granger pokes her head in. “The ribs?” she asks. “I should do them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco nods, letting Astoria go and leaving the room. Astoria watches him go, reminding herself that he is only downstairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Granger lifts Daphne’s nightgown up to her chest, and mends the ribs, causing Daphne to wake up again, gasping. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your hair is frightful,” Daphne mumbles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daphne,” Astoria chides, coming to sit by her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne gives her a strange look. “I know you,” she whispers, and Astoria has to fight from dissolving into tears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes! Daphne, I’m your sister!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think so,” Daphne says. “My sister is only eight. You are so very much older.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Daphne. I’m twenty.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Astoria is fifteen. Now, I remember. She is worried she won’t pass her N.E.W.T.S.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“O.W.L.S?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no. Her first exam at Hogwarts. She’s only eleven. She won’t take those for a long time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne seemed to jump from thought to thought faster than Astoria could follow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is what Draco had been talking about. Everything is there, just not in the right order. When Daphne does grasp a thought, it tends to slip away, only to be replaced by something that doesn’t fit. Hermione gives Astoria a sad look, before leaving the sisters alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see,” Astoria murmurs quietly. Daphne sighs in relief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Daphne croaks, and Astoria grabs a water from the pitcher, pouring Daphne a glass and handing it to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want champagne, thank you,” Daphne says haughtily. Astoria might have laughed if it wasn’t so awful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s water,” Astoria says, helping her sister to drink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You shouldn’t drink the water. It’s laced with potions,” Daphne warns desperately, before the emotion faded quickly from her face. “Is there a window? I should like to see the grounds.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astoria lies next to her sister on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “Daphne?” she asks, quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I tell you a story?” Astoria asks, quietly. Maybe she can help Daphne reorder everything, if she tells it to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I don’t like stories,” Daphne says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please?” Astoria asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine. Not a long one. My head hurts.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. It’s a story our mother told us.” Daphne looks confused, but she presses herself close to Astoria and she feels her heart soar with hope. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a story about the day you were born. It was the coldest day in September. Unseasonably cold, in fact. Our mother felt she would freeze to death and had the house-elf light every hearth in the house. This, of course, took a long time because we lived in a large mansion. There must have been thirty or more fires burning in that house and father said it was positively sweltering.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne’s breathing is slowing and she has a small smile on her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It took you fifteen hours to be born. Mother said she kept cursing and screaming, and for a minute she was worried that she would hate you. But, she said the minute she held you she laughed at herself. You were the most beautiful baby born that year, Daphne. Everyone said so. Mother said that’s why you took so long to be born; you were making sure you looked perfect.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne sighs softly, her brow scrunching in confusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mother threw a party for everyone to come and see you, and some started a rumor that you were Venus, come down from the sky. Another said that you were part veela, not mother’s child at all. And, even still, some thought that you were enchanted.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” Daphne whispers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes! And, Mrs. Parkinson, who was about eight months pregnant, told our mother that just because you were a pretty baby didn’t mean that you would be a pretty adult, and father said, “You would know,’  in front of all the important families.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Were you there?” Daphne asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. This is just what our parents told us. I didn’t exist yet.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Our parents?” Daphne murmurs, resting her head on Astoria’s shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Our mother. Aspasia Greengrass. She looks a lot like you. She is quite tall, has long blonde hair and big blue eyes. She likes to dance and you were her favorite. She likes to go shopping with you and she used to like to take you swimming.” Daphne nods slowly, eyes closed. “And, then there’s our father. He is also tall—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If he is so tall, how are you so short?” Daphne asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am not </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> short! I’m 5’5! That's the average height for witches. It is you all that are so tall!” Astoria huffs, pleased that her sister seems to be grasping something. Daphne laughs. “So, our father. He is tall, and broad, a very imposing figure. He likes to scare everyone, but we know that he isn’t really all that scary. He would let us sneak outside to play when we were supposed to be practicing our dancing, but, you would always rather stay. You only ever snuck out because I wanted to.” Astoria doesn’t want to tell Daphne their father is dead, so she says nothing else. It doesn’t matter anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne’s breathing is heavy and Astoria realizes that she has fallen asleep. Astoria starts crying. It doesn’t seem fair. In a way, it seems like it is all her fault. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0078"><h2>78. Pansy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Ernie? Are you awake?” Pansy asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he mumbles tiredly. “You’ve worn me out.” Pansy hits him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have not,” she hisses, indignantly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, you have. But, if you think you can go again, I’m not that tire—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quiet. I have something to discuss. It can wait until morning. I just wondered if you were awake.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am. What is it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It can wait,” Pansy says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm. Wait? Why bring it up then?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. Go back to sleep.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ernie shakes his head. “I’m not tired anymore.” He curls an arm around her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unhand me, Ernest,” Pansy, says testily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you not to call me that,” he grumbles, not releasing her. “Why are you in such a bad mood?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not,” Pansy says, now feeling guilty. She presses her back against his chest, and grabs his hand, playing with the ring on his finger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” he says. “I don’t believe you,” he adds. “You lie a lot.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy turns to face him. “Not to you,” she says. “About big things,” she concedes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh? What little things do you lie about?” His eyes are closed and she wishes he would look at her. She doesn’t answer. “I’m teasing. I’m not mad,” Ernie says, as if reading her mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I lie about your suede shoes. I actually hate them,” Pansy jokes.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lying again,” Ernie says, scoffing. “You would tell me if you hated them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was glad they were stolen,” Pansy watches as his eyes open slowly and Ernie smiles at her tiredly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s bothering you?” he asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m scared,” she admits. “I just wanted to distract myself. I don’t actually have anything to say.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go to sleep. You’ll feel better if you do.” He kisses her gently. “You get mean when you're tired.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy winces and presses her face into his shoulder. “I know. I’m sorry. I—I never mean it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pansy, I was kidding. I think you are nicer to me than you are to anyone else. I appreciate that. Makes me feel special.” Pansy doesn’t move. She is tired and it’s warm in the bed, his hand moving up and down the side of her face. “Go to sleep,” he says again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Pansy whispers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t sleep long. There is clattering and clashing that can be heard from downstairs and Pansy jolts awake. Ernie is already awake, slipping on clothes and grabbing his wand. He motions for her to stay quiet. Pansy moves to grab her clothes, but there is a harsh knock on the bedroom door and Pansy darts back beneath the covers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ernie opens the door, finding a panting Rabastan flanked by Crabbe and Goyle Jr. Ernie scowls. “What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ernie,” hisses Pansy, warningly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighs. “ To what do I owe the pleasure?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have her here?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who?” Ernie says, angling himself between Pansy and the door. Pansy reaches her arm out, grabbing for her wand, hugging the covers to her chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t,” Crabbe orders. Pansy narrows her eyes but draws her hand away, leaving the wand. He is almost leering at her and she retreats farther underneath the covers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daphne. Do you have her?” Rabastan prods. Pansy feels her heart leap. So, they did get her out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Is she not at the Center?” Pansy asks, voice pleasant. Rabastan turns his gaze on her and raises his eyebrows when he sees her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. You aren’t aware?” Rabastan asks, smiling lecherously. Ernie pushes out and closes the door behind him, blocking Pansy from sight. Pansy hurriedly leaps out of bed and dresses, slipping her wand into the pocket of her robes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looks at her hair and frowns. She runs a brush through the tangles as quickly as she can. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Open the door, Macmillan,” she hears Rabastan growl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will. In a minute,” Ernie replies, sounding entirely unbothered. Pansy hurries over and yanks the door open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Apologies,” Pansy says, stepping aside to let them enter the room. Rabastan tears into the room, ripping covers off the bed, checking underneath the bed, in the adjoining bathroom, in the closet, casting </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hominem Revelio</span>
  </em>
  <span> every few steps. He even checks the drawers, though she is positive it is simply to look at her underwear. Ernie suspects the same, because he starts forward only to be pulled back by Pansy. “Forget it. Who cares?” she says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I care,” he says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t. That’s the least of our worries.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently satisfied they weren’t hiding Daphne behind the dresser, Rabastan whirled on them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, Mrs. MacMillan. It seems another one of your friends has committed a heinous crime. What are we at, now? Three?” Rabastan asks, tone accusatory. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s quite unfortunate,” Pansy agrees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Quite. I suppose you don’t know where Daphne and, I don’t know, the entire population of purebloods at the Center have gone?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy’s mouth drops open. She should have known. Their lot always did try to save everyone. “What?” Pansy says, the shock on her face now no longer an act.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rabastan frowns. “Great. So, you don’t know anything.” It isn’t a question anymore. He believes her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m terribly sorry. I wish I knew how I could help you. What exactly did happen?” she asks, carefully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t know. My brother is dead. The guards are wandless and stunned. Not a single one of them remember what happened.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Someone killed Rodolphus? Impossible,” Pansy murmurs. “How did he not sense them? You can’t kill someone when they can hear every thought—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly. We think it’s Malfoy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Pansy says. “He wouldn’t be back,” she says, carefully. “Would he?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gone now. Think the little Greengrass girl talked him into going back for her sister. He’s good at occlumency. Possibly one of the best. He could have taken on Rodolphus.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy finds this doubtful. Malfoy would have taken Daphne, and Daphne only. If he even went at all. Large-scale rescue missions were not his style. “Interesting theory,” Pansy says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes. You know nothing? These are your childhood friends, Pansy. They wouldn’t tell you anything?” Rabastan narrows his eyes at her. Pansy doesn’t know when they started being on a first-name basis, but she wishes they were not. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she emphasizes, grabbing Ernie’s hand, “are committed in totality to the Dark Lord and his New World Order. We devote ourselves. I assure you, I know not what has come over them, but I no longer consider them any friends of mine. The same will not happen to us.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They didn’t tell us anything because they knew we would turn them in,” Ernie adds, and Pansy could kiss him. It’s the most helpful sentence he has ever spoken to a death eater. Rabastan looks surprised at his words and this further cements his belief in them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see. I’m sorry to bother you,” Rabastan says. Pansy nods, delicately. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are sorry to hear of your loss,” Pansy simpers. Rabastan nods, leaving, his pack of death eaters following him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy waits until she hears the cracks of apparition before turning to Ernie. He smiles at her. “You did good,” she tells him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Learned from the best,” he murmurs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t Malfoy,” Pansy says, surely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t think so either. But, you know You-Know-Who isn’t going to admit it was the Order. If he can pin it on Malfoy, he will.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy sighs, throwing off her clothes and heading toward the bed. Ernie’s eyes widen as he follows her and she laughs to herself, climbing under the covers. “I don’t know why he would. I mean, does painting Draco as this powerful, competing wizard help him? Draco is a pureblood. People might switch their allegiances. It seems he’d be better off pinning it on Granger or something.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm,” he says, not paying attention. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you even listening?” she asks, watching him throw back the covers under the pretense of climbing under, while staring at her form. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah. Pin the murder on Hermione. Great idea.” He goes to slide in next to her and Pansy throws up a hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clothes?” she asks. He flushes, shrugging them off hurriedly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smirks. “Come on, then.” He lays beside her, not touching her. “Well?” she prompts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re tired,” he mumbles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not as tired as I’m going to be.” </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Pansy is gardening, hands buried in the soil inside her greenhouse, when she hears a cough behind her. She whirls around, locking eyes with Zabini, and she sneers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, look who it is,” she spits, turning back to her orchids. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could always hold a grudge, Pansy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm,” is all she says. “I see you took more than Daphne,” she comments. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughs. “Astoria’s idea.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy scoffs. “An idealist. I always said she asked to be in Slytherin. She didn’t belong there.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zabini shakes his head. “Does it matter? Her idea worked.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Her plan?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Not her plan. Her idea. There is a difference.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy doesn’t respond. She rolls her shoulders back and throws a nasty look over her shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got a job for you,” Zabini says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Per Potter’s request, I suppose I can’t refuse,” Pansy says, acidly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That unbreakable vow was my idea, Pansy. Not theirs. They still don’t know. They fancy you a philanthropic sort,” he says, laughing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get on with it,” she says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s a state banquet and all the Ministry Officials and their families will be there. Go with your father. Tell us what you hear.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s it?” she asks, incredulous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For now. It’s a trial. See how you do,” Zabini comments. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine. I learned something last night. The Dark Lord will pin the Center and Rodolphus on Malfoy rather than admit Potter is back.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zabini frowned. “That’s a horrible idea. I mean, first Malfoy disarms and defeats him, then he robs the Dark Lord of fifty purebloods fair? He’s making Malfoy out to be a pretty powerful foe.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy shrugs. “I guess. Again, he lets his hate for Potter cloud his reason. Personally, I think if people hear that Malfoy may be trying to overthrow the Dark Lord, they’ll be excited. I mean, that’s a powerful pureblood wizard, without the mad lust of excessive blood spill and without the oppressive rules and laws.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zabini’s eyes widen. “Shit,” he breathes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Watch Lucius. I’ll guarantee he’ll feed these rumors as quietly as possible. I bet he’s thrilled right now; aching for the power grab. You need to meet with the Order and decide if that’s a good thing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zabini nods, leaving her standing in the green house, making rude gestures at his back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She owls her father, accepting the first invitation to join him in years, despite his previous attempts to get her to take an interest in his work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are you going?” Ernie asks, looking at her in her nicest set of dress robes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The State Banquet. With my father. I’d ask you to come, but I don’t think that is such a good idea.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” Ernie asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because, it’s the people who murdered your friends and family, Ernie. Even if you could sit there and be nice, I’d hate for you to put yourself through that,” Pansy says, pulling up her hair and threading jeweled clips through it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ernie scowls. “But, you’ll be—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With my father. He’s intimidating.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All your friend’s father’s are,” Ernie says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, well. It comes with the wealth and power. Now, will you zip my robes?” Ernie does so, placing a kiss to the back of each of her shoulder blades. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you. I’ll be back by midnight,” Pansy assures, reaching for her wand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Midnight!” Ernie says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At the latest,” Pansy placates, patting his arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look beautiful,” he says, leaning down to kiss her. She stops him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My lipstick, Ernie.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” he grumbles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy wants to laugh at his disgruntled expression, and she kisses his cheek lightly. “I’ll make it up to you later. Right now, I have to go.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ernie, mood improved by her promise, wishes her a hearty goodbye and Pansy tries not to laugh at him, as she apparates. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her father is waiting for her at the entrance to the Lestrange Mansion, a tall building, imposing in its grandeur.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pansy,” her father says, bending down to kiss her on the cheek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Father,” she says, giving him a tense smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never see you anymore!” he says, jovially. “Your new husband takes up all of your time,” he adds, tone turning sour. Her father hates Ernie. It was a miracle  he let Pansy marry him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Well, we are very busy,” Pansy offers apologetically. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her father takes her arm, leading her through the grand-double doors and into the Lestrange’s entrance hall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And, children? Pansy, it’s been a few years. You ought to start thinking about children.” Pansy grimaces at her father’s words. There was a time when she wanted children. But, she would never bring one into the world while the Dark Lord reigned. That would be cruel. She hopes Ernie isn’t too upset about it; he has never brought it up and Pansy certainly isn’t going to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are trying,” she lies. If people think she can’t have children, they will be cruel to her, but they will leave her alone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, anyhow. I’m glad you came with me tonight. Your mother is ill,” her father says, gripping her arm a little tighter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is she?” Pansy asks, as a nervous looking house-elf leads them to the grand dining room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not to worry. Nothing serious. A minor cold. Mrs. Malfoy came to visit her. My, that woman must be having a terrible time! I mean, her son! The disgrace she must feel.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy’s stomach twists and she feels guilt beginning to work its way up her throat. “Yes. I cannot imagine. It is lucky her sister keeps her safe,” Pansy says, trying to keep her voice steady. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope that continues. Bellatrix’s loyalty is to the Dark Lord first and foremost. If she thought Narcissa posed a serious threat, she would be eliminated,” her father said, though his tone lacked any inkling of any genuine concern. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy and her father entered, and Pansy was sure to give Rabastan Lestrange a pretty smile, before being seated next to her father, directly across from him. Pansy glances anxiously at the seat at the head of the table, her hands twisting nervously in her lap. It is yet to be filled by the Dark Lord and she hopes he doesn’t attend tonight. If he does, she can only pray that her occlumency is strong enough. If there are weaker minds in the room, the legilimency will naturally be drawn to the vulnerability. She will have to bank on that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You brought your daughter?” Amycus Carrow says, leaning toward her father. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Not to worry. She is trustworthy,” her father assures. She is reminded that if she gets caught, her father will pay for it desperately; it makes her sick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gibbon turns to his wife and mutters something in her ear. She gives him a stiff nod before whispering something back. Pansy strains to hear it but the surrounding conversation is too loud. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will our Lord be joining us?” her father asks Rabastan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no. He is busy with other matters. Dolohov will be here tonight, speaking for him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy keeps her relief to herself, taking a sip of water. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No wine tonight?” Mrs. Gibbon asks her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy smiles and dips her head. “I am trying for a baby. I’d hate to be pregnant and not know it.” In reality, she needs her head clear tonight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! How exciting! It’s such a joy to be a mother. Really, there is nothing like it.” Mrs. Gibbon turns to her husband, as if expecting him to add to the conversation. He does not. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your brats cause no end of trouble at Hogwarts,” Amycus Carrow spits at Mrs. Gibbon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pales, no doubt running through her mind the various small mistakes they could have made. All the purebloods are on edge after Astoria’s sentencing. They are not as immune as they once were. “Always sending spells flying in the corridors,” growls Carrow and Mrs. Gibbon lets out a breath. Nothing but normal Hogwarts mischief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, that sounds like them. You’ll have to excuse them. They are quite boisterous. They get it from their father.” Pansy eyes Mr. Gibbon, who looks like he is about to fall asleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dolohov enters the room, back straight and tall, giving each of them a menacing look as conversation quiets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, don’t wait on my account. Eat,” he commands, and Pansy watches as the death eaters share tentative smiles, loading their plates. Pansy doesn’t take much of anything. She isn’t very hungry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She is quiet, hoping to disappear and become unnoticeable beside her father. She needs them to talk over her, as if she isn’t there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The conversation is at first, mundane. How are you? How is your family? How is business? No one talks about work or affairs of state. No one talks about anything of note, until the main course. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m surprised Bellatrix isn’t with us,” murmurs Jugson, seated on Gibbon’s right. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still in trouble, no doubt. It’s a good thing Malfoy killed Rodolphus. Our Lord would have done it soon.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Surely he won’t kill Bellatrix!” Jugson says, shaking his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I do not think He will. But, who can tell? I doubt He wants His best soldier and strongest legilimens, besides Himself of course, dead,” Gibbon muttered. Pansy pretends to be very interested in her soup. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rodolphus was quite a loss. Even if He was furious with him, to kill him would have been foolish and—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Careful, Jug. Careful,” Gibbon says, cutting him off. Pansy smirks and locks eyes with Jugson, who looks nervous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her father is seated close to Dolohov and Pansy prays they will talk about something, anything, of interest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Antonin. What has happened? No one knows. It’s odd and quite frankly, concerning,” her father whispers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Antonin clears his throat and shifts in his seat. Pansy notices that he isn’t eating much either. “I don’t know, Parkinson. I know what He has told me, but beyond that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what has He told you?” her father pressed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Same that He has told all of you. Malfoy came, killed Rodolphus, and took Mrs. Nott and the other patients. Gone. Like they disappeared,” Dolohov says, looking tired. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And? You think him capable of killing Rodolphus? He couldn’t kill that girl and she was unarmed!” her father whispers quietly and Pansy has to strain to hear what he is saying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He has the occlumency for it. Beyond that, I do not know. Perhaps he didn’t kill the girl for other reasons. That was cruel of Lestrange. Something was odd about that anyway. I’d have a hard time killing a lady of good social standing. We all would,” Dolohov says, lowly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her father nods and glances around. “So, you think he did it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you think of anyone else?” Dolohov murmurs. “I agree. It’s odd and it doesn’t make perfect sense. But, I’m starting to think something else is going on.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And? What would that be?” Her father takes a small sip of wine and checks again, looking for eavesdroppers. His eyes slide right over Pansy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Malfoy’s gone. Disappears for, what? Four years? Gone. Not a trace. Comes back, and within a month, duels the Dark Lord, wins—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wins? How do you mean? Surely not—” her father begins. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Think! How else does he take the Dark Lord’s wand! It must have been a duel. And, now the Dark Lord is saying he stole something from Bellatrix’s vault. Not sure what, but when she was telling me of the protections she has in there? That wouldn’t be easy to do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But The Center? Why bother?” her father argues. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. The only other thing I can think of, is that our Lord isn’t quite sure who is dead and who is not,” Dolohov says, so quietly that Pansy wonders if she heard him correctly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lucius says he saw the Greengrass girl,” her father says, changing the subject after a beat of tense, nervous silence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lucius is mad and you know it. Azkaban did a number on him in ‘96 and he’s never recovered. Let it go,” Dolohov says derisively. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He says he is sure his son killed Rodolphus.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dolohov rolls his eyes. “If he has, then Lucius had nothing to do with it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her father nods. “I see. And, of what else he says?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ignore it. Even if what he says is possible, you can’t defeat someone immortal. We serve him. There is no other way.” Dolohov stands and raises his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you all for coming. We have business to discuss, so ladies, if you would take dessert in the drawing room.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alecto Carrow scowls, no doubt annoyed at escaping the term, “ladies.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy stands and follows the other wives and daughters, slipping out with them, toward the back of the group. When they turn left, led by the house-elf, Pansy turns right, and climbs the stairs.  No one notices that she is no longer with them and she tries not to be too insulted. She hadn’t realized she was so uninteresting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She has been in the Lestrange mansion a total of fifteen times before, and she hopes that she remembers how to get to the blue room; the blue room is a richly furnished guest bedroom that happens to be directly above the dining room. Pansy is hoping that if she presses her ear to the floor, she can hear the conversation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She opens the door and closes it quietly behind her, the amount of dark blue in the room nearing nauseating. It makes the room feel close and claustrophobic. The walls, bedspread, tables, chairs, even the books on the bookcase, are all a deep blue. It’s like drowning in an ocean. She lays on the floor and presses her ear to the thick blue carpet. She can hear muffled conversation, but nothing discernable. She sits up and uses her wand to rip up a portion of the carpet. When she presses her ear to the cool wooden floor underneath, she can now hear, the carpet no longer muffling the sound. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The wand is gone, Dolohov. No one knows where Malfoy is and no one knows where that wand is. The Dark Lord is having a new wand made is He not? That wandmaker, Donatello Silvestri. Is he not coming to make the Dark Lord a new wand—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know why that wand is so important. Only that it is. Keep looking,” Dolohov’s muffled voice sounds, cutting off who Pansy thinks is Yaxley. “Now, another thing you need to be looking for. A golden cup.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The one from the Battle of Hogwarts? I don’t understand what is so important about that cup anyway,” whines Jugson. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, I know. Just find it. The Dark Lord likes heirlooms. I assume that’s the importance it holds. Again, it is likely with Malfoy. Find Malfoy, find the cup and the wand.” Pansy can hear the frustration in Dolohov’s voice. Just how many of them aren’t happy? Dolohov clears his throat, ready to speak again.  “Now, about Silvestri. He is quite a prolific wandmaker. He is coming with a core of Nundu fang.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were audible gasps around the room, and muffled, hushed voices. Fear. Pansy frowns. She doesn’t know what a Nundu is. If only Hagrid were around. He likely would have brought one to class and watched it kill them all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For the wand?” someone asks, Pansy cannot tell who. Rookwood, perhaps? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. It’s powerful. A group of you are to arrive in Italy to escort him to the Ministry next Thursday, 10 am outside the Italian Ministry of Magic. That will be Macnair, Yaxley, Wilkes and Rookwood.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy hears footsteps outside the door and she stands hurriedly, repairing the carpet quickly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rabastan Lestrange opens the door, frowning when he sees her. “What are you doing?” he asks, suspiciously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Waiting for you,” Pansy lies, giving him a sweet smile, her stomach rolling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He arches a brow. “What for?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To talk,” she says, backtracking just a little. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes a step forward, shutting the door behind him. “About?” He is grinning at her now, in a suggestive sort of way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daphne,” she blurts, suddenly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What of her?” he asks, still smiling, walking forward and sitting on the bed. He pats the spot next to him and Pansy pretends not to notice. He does it again and she sits down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened? There is still so much unknown. I am not her friend, but it bothers me that I did not notice she was plotting against our Lord,” Pansy says, feeling sick as he placed his hand on her knee. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know all that we know,” Rabastan says, clearly not involved in the conversation at all, his hand sliding higher up her thigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. I merely just wanted to ask you if you knew where she might be? It would help me gain closure,” she says, fighting the bile rising in her throat as his hand drifts a little higher. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Is that really why you came up here?” he asks, whispering in her ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. That’s it, Rabastan. I wanted to ask you, a dear friend if—” Rabastan puts his hand over her mouth and ice cold fear begins to choke her. His hand is inching up her dress and she wrenches from him, standing. “You are a gentleman!” she reminds him, hotly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She flees the room, heart pounding as she wrenches open the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She makes her way to the drawing room and takes a seat in a corner, waiting until her father comes to collect her and take her home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soon, her wish is granted and her father sticks his head in the door, gesturing for her to follow him. She stands and follows him out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, father. I missed this,” she said, smiling and hanging on his arm. He gives her an adoring look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. You are free to come along anytime,” he says, leading her out of the grand double doors and into the night air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll take you up on that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That night, when she arrives home, she sends an owl to Zabini. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We need to talk. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Ernie has waited up for her and he walks out of the parlor when he hears her at the door. “Hey,” he says, sleepily. “How’d it go?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She throws her arms around him and he jumps, startled, before embracing her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, hey. What happened?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing,” she says. “Can we go to bed?” He looks a little taken aback, but he agrees, keeping an arm around her waist as they walk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re lying,” he whispers, later, when she lays next to him. “You’ve never clung to me like this,” he says, laughing slightly. It’s true. Her arms are locked around his neck and her face is buried in his chest. She starts to pull away, but his grip tightens. “I didn’t say you couldn’t. What happened?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honestly? Nothing much. I thought for a minute something might, but then nothing did.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks at her and she deliberately refuses to meet his eyes. “And you're okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Pansy mutters, trying not to get irritable. He lets it go. He always does. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m thinking the thing you told me not to say,” he says, voice tired. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Pansy says, confused, eyes slipping closed. When he whispers it in her ear, she smiles. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>